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35 



LOVE AND JEALOUS Y. 




i stoma I fir a ma 



Or THE DAYS OF 



The Stuart Insurrection of 1745. 



By Charles M. Caughy, 



OF BALTIMORE. 




BALT1M ORE: 

Printed by John Murphy & Co. 

182 Baltimore Street. 
18*73. 




LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 



listarkal flrama 



OF THE DAYS OF 



The Stuart Insurrection of 1745. 



By Charles M. Caught, 






OF BALTIMORE. 



fcs 



> 






BALTIMORE: 

Printed by John Murphy & Co. 

182 Baltimore Street. 

1873. 

<7r 



<> 4 






Cnttwb attorbing to girt of ffiongms, in t^c jjcar 1873, ba 

Chakles M. Caught, 
in ifet ©ffirt of tfe« librarian of Congress, at 3&asbJngton. 



The undersigned having complied with all the re- 
quirements of the Copyright laws, Managers wishing 
tto negociate will address 

CHARLES M. CAUGHY, 

165 W. Baltimore street, 

Baltimore, Md. 



TMP92-008816 



LOVE AND JEALOUSY 

Time oe the Play— 1745. 
Dramatis Personam. 

LEWIS MURRAY, Earl of Strathroy. 
SIR MALCOLM OLIPHANT. \ 
SERGEANT COUPLAND. * 
DR. PAIRLIE. 
COLONEL STRANG. 
General Kerr. 
Captain Lawrence Spence. 
Neil Johnstone. 
Sergeant Ryan. 
Corporal Hodge. 
Guard on board ship "-Tiger. rr 
" Willie-wan t-a.-bit. rr 
Geordie. 

LADY MARGARET OLIPHANT. 1 
MRS. MALCOLM- 
MAGGIE, A Scotch Lass. J 
Agnes Murray. 
Mrs. McNeil. 
Tenantry, Soldiers, Servants, &c, &c. 

Scene of Play— Scotland. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — Hall of the Castle of Elvanlec. Suits of ancestral armor 
hanging round the trails. On a pedestal at each side a complete suit 
of Knight's armor, with visor down, and a. long s])ear grasped in 
the mailed hand. The windows are small. Door in c. F. practical. 
On the right is a large fire-place with fire. The room is richly 
furnished in wore modern designs tJian the general surroundings. 
As the scene opens Sir Malcolm Oliphant, Dr. Fairlie, Ser- 
geant Eyan and Neil Johnstone, discovered. Dr. Fairlie at 
window, R. 

Ryan. [Delivering dispatches.) From the Lord President, your 
Honor 

Sir Mai. 'Tis well. (Reading.) Johnstone, have a horse saddled 
and see the messenger well bestowed. 

(Exeunt Johnstone and Eyan, l. 1 e.) 

Dr. Fair. Well, what says our friend, President Forbes? 

Sir Mai. (Sighing.) The dispatches are of the highest importance. 
The Chevalier's standard has been raised at Glenfinnan. The clans 
are flocking round it, and have already succeeded in capturing a 
detachment of the Inverness garrison. Gen. Cope marched north- 
ward a week ago ; and I am directed to follow him with what men I 
can muster. 

Dr. Fair. (Tapping his snuff-box.) That sounds serious. 

Sir Mai. Fairlie, it sounds to me like the doom of my happiness. 

Dr. Fair. Hoots ! nonsense, man. Because you have to separate 
before your honey-moon has lost its glamour ; so much the better 
for your notion of a honey-moon. But what then? You'll be home 
again, and enjoy a second one for the valiant service you have done 
your country, in driving these highland fanatics back to their moun- 
tains. 

Sir Mai. You forget, Doctor, how awkwardly I am placed. The 
man who unfurled the Pretender's Standard, and who is loudest in 
proclaiming the Stuarts' right to the throne, is my ivife J s father — 
Strathroy. 

Dr. Fair. The ould fire-eater! He was out in "15," and was 
luckier than some of his comrades in getting off with his head. 

Sir Mai. His devotion to the cause of the Stuarts ; his mad enthu- 
siasm will only be satisfied in death. 

Dr. Fair. Well, you can't help that. 

Sir Mai. Nay, but I suffer for it all the same. You know how 
he scoffed me for my adhesion to the Government. You know with 
what vengeance he menaced Margaret, when he learned that her 
love for me had proven more potent than her fear of his commands, 
and that she had become my wife. But all that did not make her 
love him less ; and the thought that his fanaticism caused her to- 
disobey him pains her to the heart. 

1 5 



Q LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Dr. Fair. You prove yourself worthy of her, and she will have 
the less to regret. ( Using snuff.) 

Sir Mai. Ay, hut now when she hears that the Chevalier's friends 
have risen ; when she is told that her father stands, sword in hand, 
on one side, and her husband on the other — Oh ! man, think what 
torture, what agony she will endure every moment this hideous 
strife continues. Oh ! would to heaven there were any honest means 
by which I could shun this duty that is thrust upon me. 

Dr. Fair. That's nae possible ; and I would warn you to take 
heed how you speak Of* this business. Remember you are married to 
the daughter of Strathroy, the Jacobite, and your ancestors have 
belonged to the Jacobite side ; these are reasons enough for suspect- 
ing you are tarred with the same stick. That is why Forbes has 
been in such haste to compromise you by engaging you at the outset 
in active service for the house of Hanover. 

Sir Mai. And that is another reason for my desire to avoid the 
service. My father, and his fathers, since ever the Oliphants of 
Elvanlee have held a place in Scotland, have given their best blood 
for the Stuarts' cause. The past makes me seem in my own eyes — 
ay, in the eyes of others — a renegade. The past makes me think of 
Charles Edward with respect and affection, and even now, if I could 
save him one moment of the pain and disappointment to which I see 
him advancing, I would gladly give him my life and fortune. 
Dr. Fair. This is treason ! 

Sir Mai. Peace, man, and hear me out. I would give all I possess 
to help the Chevalier, but the result of his invasion will be a reckless 
waste of human life, a reckless shower of misery upon our poor coun- 
try, which must end in his degraded flight or wretched death. The 
sooner he is satisfied that this is the inevitable climax, the less harm 
he will do ; for 1 believe him to be an honest gentleman, who would 
not ruthlessly sacrifice those who love him. Therefore, with a sad 
heart, I am for King George. 

Dr. Fair. For heaven's sake, man, see that 3 r ou never speak in 
this fashion again. I hope nobody else heard you enow. It would 
be enough to condemn you to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, not 
to speak of the confiscation of all your estates. 

Sir Mai. Have no fear on that score. To you I can speak freely. 
To all others I am silent. But enough of that. I have a task for 
you. Margaret has not yet been told how I am placed, but it would 

be cruelty to conceal it from her 

Dr. Fair. Quite correct. You had better tell her immediately. 
(Starts to go.) 

Sir Mai. Stop. I want you to help me, by breaking to her the 
news of our departure. 

Dr. Fair. Mel I could nae do it. 

Sir Mai. You must, Doctor. What I have to say, will disturb 
her less, when she has obtained some knowledge of my position from 
you. I charge you, on your friendship, aid me to make this blow fall 
as lightly upon her as may be. 

Dr. Fair. Is there anything particularly saft about my head or 
body ? because you seem to think I was made for no other purpose 
than to be a trumpeter of ill-news, and it's a nasty job. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JXALOU8T. 7 

Mai. Nay, Fairlie, for my sake zo and break the news to her 
while I bestow these papers in the Library. 

E ters Library, c. F.) 

(Enter Villagers, and Strathroy disguised, r. 1 e. 

Mrs. McNeiL To Dr. Fairlie. who is about • Oh! 

my Geordie. my laddie has wandered amang the wild brutes 
of horses tethered on the hillside. "Will naebody save my bairn ? 
i Margaret appears passing the window, leading the child by the hand, 
and enters the room, l. '2 e. 

Mar. Yes : here he is safe and sound. 

Mrs. McNeil. God be merciful to your Ladyship. Ye hue 
my bairn. 

Mar. There, there, friends : you are overloading me with grati- 
tude. The child is unhurt, and so am I. and that is satisfaction 
enough for me. Go all of ye and drink the laddie's health ; and 
you. Mistress McNeil, see that he never gets in such a scrape 

Mrs. McNeil. I hope he'll never be in sic danger again, my Lady, 
unless it be to serve you. and may ye never be in need sic a service. 

Mar. That is a sensible prayer. Mrs. McNeil. I hope it may be 
granted fur your boy's sake as well as my own. 7b Dr. Fairlie. 
icho has been examining the child, i Well, Doctor, is he hurt ? 

Dr. Fair. It's a miracle, but he has not been touched. 

Mar I thought so ; for the poor horses, frightened as they were 
by the noise our friends were making, lifted every foot as daintily 
as they feared as much to hurt him. as we did that they would kill 
him. Come to me before yon go home, and I will give you some- 
thing to help Geordie remember this day. 

Mrs. McNeiL Thanks, my Lady. Now, Geordie. hand your 
hands up, clasped that way. as when you say your prayers, and say 
wi a your heart: '-Lord bless your Ladyship, and keep sorrow frae 
your door." 

He. (All hands kneel reverently, wi-' -Lord 

bless your Ladyship, and keep sorrow frae y«:-ur door.'' 

Till. Amen. 

Mrs. McNeil. Now one more prayer, Geordie. '-God bless King 
■ ." Strathroy puts on his hat. sto 
while all the others kneel. •• Willie-want-a-bit " tears the hat 
from his head, which angers Strathroy, but he re-covers A 
gives him a shilling and takes his hot 

•die. ■■ God bless King George." 

Vill. Amen. Exeunt Villagers, r. 1 e.) 

Enter Sir Malcolm from the Library, c. f , the door of which he 
■s, but leaves the key in the lock. He carries his sword in his 
hand, but at the sight of Margaret, he places it on the table, and 
advances to her.) 

Sir Mai. "What has been the stir in here? Ah, Madge, you have 
been in it. 

Dr. Fair. Yes, and was likely to remain in it forever, at one time. 



8 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Sir Mai. What was it ? You are both excited. 

Mar. Oh ! nothing, Malcolm. 

Dr. Fair. Nothing? [Using snuff-box.) On my soul, Sir, it was 
a sight to make a cynic respect her Ladyship's sex. You shall have 
a true account of it frae me, Sir. Twenty furious horses 

Mar. [Interrupting.) Nay! flatterer, you shall not be permitted 
to make me blush for a single act of kindness. I'll tell Malcolm. 
Mrs. McNeil's boy wandered among the horses; I managed to drag 
him safely out of his predicament. That was all. There was no 
danger, at least I was not sensible of any ; so there is no need to 
think of horrors that did not happen. 

Sir Mai. It was rash in you, Madge. Rash as you always are 
where your heart tempts you to help or comfort another. Think, I 
might have lost you. 

Mar. And that poor mother might have lost her bairn. My 
rashness is of small account balanced against her happiness. You, 
Doctor, would have done the same had you been there in time. 
Would you not ? 

Dr. Fair. [Using snuff-box.) Eh — well, maybe, maybe I might 
hae done it. There is no knowing what wonders a man might do. 
But I am quite sure I would not had I been a woman. 

Mar. Fie, Doctor. You would think less of my act if you did 
not think so much of your own sex. You men are so selfish that you 
reserve all the grander virtues for yourselves. Courage, strength, 
endurance, fidelity even, you fancy reach their highest perfection in 
manhood; and we poor slaves, who are incapable of such noble im- 
pulses, must stand by, and raise our eyes in all humility to the great 
creatures whose nobility we must admire, but may not emulate. 

Dr. Fair. I never said that. 

Mar. Confess now, Doctor, and you too Malcolm, that you believe 
it is only men who can be heroic. But let me tell you, a faithful 
woman's life is in itself heroic. You keep to yourselves all opportu- 
nities, all the work in the doing of which heroes are made, and then 
you think us disqualified because we do not keep pace with you. Yet 
I would lay my life there are more men made heroes by a circum- 
stance, than there are women who are not heroines, although they 
lack your opportunities. The one happens to get his light placed 
atop a powder barrel, and the powder does the rest; the other has 
her light hid from the world by the four walls of home. 

Sir Mai. Doctor answer that. I wont try. 

Dr. Fair. [Offering snuff-box.) Madame, I surrender my sword, 
and henceforth, on your authority, shall look upon every woman as 
a hero. 

Mar. [Laughingly.) Beaten. 

Dr. Fair. Crushed, and not able to wag a finger in my own de- 
fence. 

Mar. Then, Sir, you shall be sentenced to maniage within a year. 

Dr. Fair. [Horrified.) Mercy, no! Have some pity, or I shall 
die in the anticipation. At least wait till we get out of this cursed 

rebel [interrupted by a quick sign from Sir Malcolm.) But I 

must leave you. There is a patient below waiting me. 

[Exit Dr. Fairlie, boiving, L. 2 e.) 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 9 

Sir Mai. [Taking her hand.) You should have been a man. 
Madge. 

Mar, (Sharply.) I am content to be a woman, Malcolm, for your 
sake. 

Sir Mai. Thank heaven you are so. Ah, wife, there are moments 
when the ardor of our wooing days, intensified by the knowledge 
that you arc all my own now, makes me feel as if I could almost 
sacrifice honor for your sake 

Mar. What a droll notion ! Sacrifice honor for my sake? "Why 
then you would sacrifice me too ; for I think, Malcolm, the hus- 
band "s honor is the wife's safeguard. 

Sir Mai. You are right, Madge, you are right. 

Mar. You are in one of your melancholy humors to-day, which 
have been so frequent of late, that I have begun to fancy "(pauses.) 

Sir Mai. Fancy what, Madge ? 

Mar. Shall I tell you? Well they have made me fancy that our 
honey-moon was drawing to a close, and that we were beginning to 
settle down into the sober common place of wedded life — when the 
wife becomes a sort of superior housekeeper, and her lord grows too 
busy with the grave details of his atfairs to spend one-half hour in 
the interchange of the little nothings which make a lover's days so 
short and happy. 

Sir Mai. (Quickly.) You are mistaken, Madge, our honey-moon 
shall never end. 

Mar. (Laughingly.) There spoke the lover and not the staid- 
minded husband. But I'll punish you, Sir, by holding you to your 
word, (jilacing a chair for him, and a stool for herself,) and I'll at 
once assume the authority which a woman possesses before she has 
spoken the fatal "yes," with which she abdicates the throne of love, 
and becomes one of its humblest slaves. So sit you there (he obeys) 
and I'll sit here. That is right. Now I feel myself a person of some 
importance while I am looking in your face, and reading there 

Sir Mai. That I love you, Madge. 

Mar. (Kissing him.) No Sir, but I read there that you know 
how much another person cares for you. Oh ! Malcolm, tell me 
what is the meaning of the moody fits that so trouble you of late ? 
"What is the meaning of your repeated visits to Edinburgh; of the 
couriers constantly passing to and fro ? And last of all, what is the 
meaning of the sudden gathering of the tenantry, and the turning- 
out of all the old armor that has been rusting since the sad rising of 
" 15? " (Excitedly.) Answer me, why is it, how is it and what is it? 

Sir. Mai. (Aside ) The crisis has come at last. I am going to 
startle you, Madge ; I am going to leave you. (Rises.) 

Mar. Leave me? (Rising.) 

Sir Mai. Ay, but only for a little while, I trust. I have been like 
a coward trying to hide it from you, but you must learn it now. 

Mar. "Where are you going, and why may I not go with you ? 

Sir Mai. To war. The Chevalier has raised his standard in the 
North ; he is supported by a few fanatical chiefs and their followers, 
and I am commanded to march, with what forces I can muster, to 
join Gen. Cope, 

Mar. Ah ! (Abriqrtly ) And you obey ? 
1* 



10 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Sir Mai. I must. There is no alternative save obedience or dis- 
honor. Do you blame me ? 

Mar. No; I dare not blame you ; but, Oh! Malcolm, remember 
in what traditions I have been educated. The right of the Stuarts 
was the faith of my fathers — ay, of yours. The misfortunes of the 
Stuarts were theirsalso. They followed the Stuarts for good or ill, 
with loyal and unflinching fidelity ; they suffered with them, they 
died for them. Remember that, and you will not be angry with me, 
if for a moment my heart is oppressed with the thought that this 
strife is an unhallowed one. 

Sir Mai. (Sadly.) My allegiance is pledged to the King. My 
honor is at stake, and even were it otherwise, I know this mad rising 
is only the last faint glimmer of a setting sun. When the darkness 
falls the too faithful adherents of the Stuarts' cause will be homeless 
exiles, or mangled corses on a bloody field. Widowed mothers, and 
fatherless bairns will be crying piteously for the shelter and bread 
which has been cruelly torn from them in the vain effort to maintain 
a hopeless cause. Let us save as many of them as we can. 

Mar. Forgive me, Malcolm, I did not mean to question the jus- 
tice of your cause. I know it must be wise and just, since you have 
chosen it. But the danger - 

Sir Mai. You must not think of it. You must forget every thing 
save to be happy. 

Mar. I can forget every thing when you are near me. Forget 
even that you are the enemy of the cause for which my brother died, 
and to which my father has devoted his life and fortune. Serve 
What cause you will, I am your wife, Malcolm, and your faith shall 
be mine ; your hopes, your aspirations, aye your crimes, I will share 
them all. 

Sir Mai. You give me strength, wife, and courage. But there 
must be no more regrets, no more tears. 

Mar. None; (wiping her eyes ;) that is all over now. I am the 
soldier's wife, ready to look calmly in the face of death. You shall 
see how resolute I can be, for (buckling his sword around him) with 
my own hand will I buckle on your sword. 

Sir Mai. That is bravely done, Margaret. You will think of me 
when I am away ? 

Mar. Ay, Malcolm, very often. 

Sir Mai. Oh wife ! wife ! mine is a jealous love. You are so precious 
to me that I am like a miser; I fear to let others see my treasure lest 
they rob me of it. I am selfish too, and grudge every smile that is 
not given to me. While away from you, I shall envy the stars be- 
cause they may look on you ; I shall envy the sun, because his light 
shines on you. This is weak and I know it; but you are so dear to me 
I seem to have no strength that is not inspired by your presence. 
Within the last few days, somehow, my love has made a coward of 
me, and, like a child in the dark, the vague shadows of my own vague 
fears frighten me. 

Mar. (Kissing him.) I like to hear you talk that way, Malcolm; 
but we have changed places within the last few minutes. It is you 
who are weak now, and I am strong. 

Sir Mai. There is something else, Madge 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 11 

Mar. Well ? 

Sir Mai. There is something Fairlie has to tell you. I'll send 
him up. Be sure you do not let any one enter the library. I will be 
with you in half an hour. (Margaret throws herself in chair near 
table, and appears to be in deep rererie. Sir MALCOLM turns to leave, 
when he encounters Fairlie, l. 2 e.) Ah, here is the Doctor. I've 
met you most opportunely. Be gentle with her, Doctor, for pity's 
sake. (Exit Sir Malcolm, l. 2 k.) 

Dr. Fair. (Taking snuff.) Gentle, humph ! The heart's a deli- 
cate piece of anatomy to operate on. She looks had eno' as it is. 
Confound him, why did he not tell her the whole afiair'at once, and 

not make two bites of a d d sour cherry. (Advances a little, halts, 

helps himself to a pinch of snuff.) I suppose he expects me to soften 
the effect, while he escapes her appeal to him to shun the whole busi- 
ness. I am to approach her with this bludgeon of news in one hand, 
and a bolus in the other, saying, " Madame, my compliments. 
I've come to knock you down with this, and set you up again with 
that." (Advancing and looking steadily towards her.) I can't do it, 
I won't do it, and I'll go and tell him so. (As he is about to go 
out, Margaret hears him.) 

Mar. Dr. Fairlie, Elvanlee said you had something to tell me. 

Dr. Fair. Ahem — well, yes — there was a matter 1 wanted — that 
is he wanted — but, give me your hand. (Feeling her pulse.) Gallop- 
ing like a wild colt, fever imminent. Body o'me, it's dangerous to 
say a word. 

Mar. Doctor, speak; whatever you have to say cannot be worse 
than the dread of the calamity with which your hesitation over- 
whelms me. 

Dr. Fair. (Using snuff box.) Madame, I can sugar my pills, but 
cannot sugar my words. Still, pills and words come to the same effect 
in the end, whether sugared or not. But you'll promise to bear it 
like a man — I mean like a woman who is fit to be a hero? 

Mar. Yes — yes — anything ; only spare me this suspense. 

Dr. Fair. Then make ready — present — fire ! Your father is out 
With the Chevalier, and it was he who raised the standard at Glen- 
finnan. (Margaret gives a, faint cry and staggers in his arms.) 
There, vou are going to faint. Remember every woman is a hero. 
Shall I 'fetch your salts? 

Mar. There, I am better. Thank you. "What was it \ r ou said ? 
My father out with the Chevalier? Oh ! Doctor, this will be a cruel 
war. I see the horror of it all ; my father here, my husband there, 
they will meet; there will be no time for any thought of me — and 
oh, merciful heaven, my hands girt on the sword that will be turned 
against my father' 1 's breast. (Paces iip and down excitedly.) 

Dr. Fair. What in the name of iEsculapius shall I say to comfort 
her. (Nervously using his snuff-box.) You exaggerate. You alarm 
yourself needlessly. The chances are that they will never meet, and 

if they do I'lf undertake they'll both run away; or d — n it, I'll 

make them swallow my medicine chest, instruments and all. 

Mar. They must not meet ; it is an unnatural strife, and no man 
is degraded who flees it. There is yet time for Malcolm to escape to 
Holland ; there he will be safe from this hateful struggle. Summon 



12 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

him to me, Doctor, and you will add your counsel to my prayers. 
Call him to me quick ! quick ! 

Dr. Fair. Yes, yes ; but I cannot leave you in this excited state. 
(Goes to the window, l. c, and looks out.) I don't see Elvanlee, but 
yonder is Neil. I have beckoned to him. He will find him. 

(Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e., and behind him Strathuoy, dis- 
guised as a gaberlunzie, with a slouching gait and restless, watching 
eyes. Dr. Fairlie observes him.) 

Dr. Fair. Well, my man, what are you doing here? 

Strath. Ye made a sign, maister, and I thought ye wanted some- 
body. 

v Dr. Fair. So I did ; but not you. So go down to the court ; you 
will find every thing you need there. (Turns his back on him, and 
St rath roy, instead of going out, shuffles over to the mantle piece near 
Margaret.) Run for your Master, Neil, and tell him her Ladyship 
desires to speak with him instantly. (Exit Johnstone, l. 1 e. Dr. 
Fairi.ie seeing Strathroy has not left the room ) Now, sir, you can 
go. I've told you we don't want you. 

Strath. (Warming his hands at the fire.) Ay, Maister, soon 
agoing. (A shout in the yard attracts Fairlie's attention to the 
window. Strathroy bends quickly over, and says hi a low tone to 
Margaret :) " Get him out of the way, I must speak to you alone." 
( This startles Margaret, who hardly suppresses a scream when Fair- 
lie turns from window.) 

Dr. Fair. It is Elvanlee addressing the folk; I believe there is 
not one among them who would not die for him. 

Mar. Will you go and bring him to me, Doctor? 

Dr. Fair. At your pleasure, Madame. (To Strathroy.) Eh — 
what? You not gone yet? On my soul, sir, you are the most obsti- 
nate bluegown I have ever seen. Come, right about face — march. 
(Strathroy starts towards the door, L , steadily watching Mar- 
garet.) 

Mar. I — I have a message for this man, Doctor. Let him stay. 

Dr. Fair. Oh, if he's part of the establishment, that's all right; 
but (taking snuff) I'm not altogether sure he's an ornament to it. 
However you know him, and that's enough. (Exit Fairlie, l. 2 e., 
eying Strathroy suspiciously. As soon as he passes out, Strathroy 
springs forward, closes and bars the door, and then throws off his dis- 
guise.) 

Mar. Father! what madness, what reckless disregard of your own 
safety has prompted you to visit this place? 

Strath. (Harshly.) I have come to see my daughter, and find 
she gives my first visit a poor welcome. 

Mar. What welcome can I give you here, now, and at this time, 
until I know whether you are come as friend or foe ? 

Strath. I come as the friend of all true men and women. I come 
as the implacable foe of all knaves and traitors who would take arms 
for the usurping house of Hanover against their lawful King, James 
Stewart. 

Mar. Hush ! hush ! do not speak so loud, since you come as my 
husband's foe — and mine. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 13 

Strath. I am sorry for that. 

Mar. You do not speak as if you cared. Oh, are men turned to 
demons! Is there no longer" any pity or mercy in the world, that 
the dear ties of kindred, which should give happiness, are changed to 
whips that scourge most fierce the fondest hearts. 

Strath. The whips are made by those they lash. 

Mar. Am I to blame for your position now ? Be merciful to me, 
father. In your exile I was faithful to you; through long years 
of privation I tried to soothe your sorrow ; from my childhood all 
my thoughts were given to you and my .sister 

Strath. Until Malcolm Oliphant of Elvanlce came, and then you 
forgot every thing else — duty to me, and respect for those principles 
of loyalty which are dearer to me than life. 

Mar. There is a greater loyalty, father, than that w r e owe to 
kings — the loyalty we give to those we love. But you first brought 
Malcolm to our house, and you consented to our marriage. It was 
not until he refused to join a conspiracy against the government of 
his country, that you forbade our union. Your demand came too 
late, and we disobeyed it. For that one act of disobedience am I not 
cruelly punished? You stand opposed to Malcolm in the fiercest 
enmity, and the effect of all your wrath and all his hate fall upon 
me, who stands between you, helpless, yet loving both. 

Strath. It would have been otherwise had Oliphant been true to 
the faith of his fathers. 

Mar. He is true to the interests of his country, believing it of less 
consequence who occupies the throne, than that the people should 
have peace. But, father, whether he is right or wrong, why should 
there be this bitterness between us? (Throwing her arms around his 
neck.) A little while ago, when I learned you were in the insur- 
gent's ranks, I w r as about to implore Malcolm to desert the post 
w r hich had been thrust upon him, lest evil fortune should bring you 
together in the strife. But now I turn to you first. (Falling on her 
knees.) You appeal to the justice of your cause; I appeal to your 
love, and in the name of the sacred memory of my mother I beseech 
you to desist from this struggle, and to remember only the links that 
should bind us together; let kings and governments fight as they 
may. (Strathroy has become so moved during this appeal that he 
sinks hi a chair.) 

Strath. You spoke so like your mother, child, that I think you 
would have won my consent to anything but this. 

Mar. And this is everything. It is your happiness and Mal- 
colm's I desire. 

Strath. (Shaking his head.) Happiness cannot be purchased at 
such a price. Desert the cause? (Margaret turns her face away 
from him, sighing.) See how white these hairs have grown in 
his service. You see this scar? It w T as received in his service 
thirty years ago. I sacrificed for him, then, fortune, friends, 
home and every thing, yet I regret nothing. Can you expect me 
now to sympathize with those who hesitate to make the same sac- 
rifice? 

Mar. But times are changed father. No sacrifice now will serve 
your purpose. 



14 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Strath. We will put it to the test, come what may. I will never 
cease to hope. You remember your brother : my bonnie brave- 
hearted Frank? You know how I toiled to fit him for service for 
the king? How I devoted his life to it, so that when I was gone 
the work might be carried on by one as faithful as myself? ' He 
ventured from our exile, on a secret mission to England. He was 
seized by the usurper's spies, submitted to the mockery of a trial, 
and hanged like a common felon. When the tidings came to us, you 
saw no tears in my eyes, no grief in my face, and yet I loved him. 
He had died for the cause, and I was content. Were my faith now 
shaken, my heart would wither with the thought I had Frank's 
death to answer for. I dare not think of that. 

Mar. Forget the past, father. 

Strath. (Strathroy gazes vacantly and does not notice her inter- 
ruption.) Frank gone — Malcolm Oliphant appeared, and I hoped to 
find in him one who would replace my son in fidelity to the cause 
of our master. When that hope was dispelled, I spurned him from 
me even when your happiness was at stake. That too, I was pre- 
pared to sacrifice for the cause. There is no tie that I would not 
break, no deed I would not do, for the purpose to which I have de- 
voted all I possess. Knowing that, you ask me to desert, to be fore- 
sworn ! No ; a life so full of sacrifice (reverently lifting his hat,) for 
him, shall end, please heaven, in dying for the king. 

Mar. Beware father, beware, if these words were heard a hun- 
dred swords would be lifted against you. Oh ! is there no escape 
from this torture ? 

Strath. Yes, there is one, and it is chiefly for that reason I am here. 

Mar. Tell me. 

Strath. Leave this man who has proven himself unworthy of you. 
Leave him at once, without a word of parting. I will carry you and 
your sister Agnes to a place of safety, where you can abide the issue 
of events. Come, I offer you forgiveness and safety. 

Mar. Leave Malcolm ? Father, all the devotion you have shown, 
all the sacrifice you have given to your king, all that and more I owe 
to my husband. I will not leave him. 

Strath. You are resolved ? 

Mar. As yourself. There is no power that can make me false to 
him. 

Strath. So be it. T have spoken the last to you I shall ever speak 
as your father. Henceforth you and Oliphant are no more to me 
than the other treacherous rebels of the land. 

Mar. Father 

Strath. Silence! You have chosen. Now where is Agnes? 
Summon her to me. 

Mar. (Going to door R. and calling.) Agnes. 

Strath. You have tempted her to tarry here with you when her 
place is with me. She has no bonds to keep her in the nest of 
traitors, and she shall not remain another day. 

(Enter Agnes, r. 2 e.) 
Agnes. Well Madge, what in the world does all this clatter in the 
court-yard mean? (Seeing Strathroy, but not recognizing him till 
he advances and speaks to her.) 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 15 

Strath. You have come to me, daughter, and I am grateful that 
you are left to me, the last of all, who once claimed kindred. 

Agnes. (Embracing him.) You are here and safe! Then you 
have not joined the rising the Doctor was telling me about ? (Ex- 
amining his dress.) Why do you come here in this ridieulous dress? 

Strath. You arc mistaken, Agnes, I am not safe here : but I can- 
not explain every thing now. Get your cloak ; you must leave with 
me instantly. 

Agnes. Is Madge going ? 

Strath. No ! she is no longer my daughter, no longer your sister. 
She abides with those with whom it would be degradation for us to 
associate. 

Agnes. You are angry with her, father. You must not blame her 
too much. She could not help loving Elvanlee. 

Strath. ( Continuing.) Until I can give you a fitting home, I will 
place you with the other gentlewomen of our party, the wives and 
daughters of honest men. 

Agnes. Then you are out with the Chevalier ; and you want me 
to leave Madge here, all alone. Oh father, don't ask me to do that! 
I am better with her than with strangers, and she needs me. It 
would be cruel to desert her. (Embracing Margaret.) 

Strath. You too forsake me ! The autumn has come ; the leaves 
drop from the tree, while gaunt and bare it fronts the whistling 
blast. My son taken from me, my daughters desert me, and there is 
no creature kin to me I need regret parting with. 

Agnes. (Sobbing.) No, no, we do not forsake you. (About to throw 
her arms around him, hit he repels her.) 

Strath. You see me now only a weak old man, whose heart 
tugs sorely for the affection that is denied him. But that is over ! 
You see me now a man, erect and firm as in other days, remember- 
ing that all he loses is for his king. Farewell ! had you been 
men, my own hand would have punished your treason. (Sounds of 
a drum without, Margaret springs to door and listens ) 

Agnes. How wildly you talk ! Every word imperils your life. 

Strath. (Calmly.) I am in a den of traitors, and I know my 
danger. 

Mar. You must escape, sir ; but you cannot go this way. I hear 
Elvanlee's foot upon the stairs, (opening the door of the library,) in 
here quick, till I can find an opportunity to set you free. (She 
pushes Strathroy in, locks the door, and takes the key out. Just 
as Agnes unbars the door, Sir Malcolm enters, l. 2 e.) 

Sir Mai. You sent for me, Madge. I'll be at leisure presently. 
The men are in capital spirits, and I want to get them formed in 
soldier-like order before Colonel Strang arrives. ( Walks towards 
library door, and not seeing the key seems to be looking for it. In the 
meantime, Agnes starts at sound of the name, and says to him.) 

Agnes. Is it Colonel Henry Strang, you expect ? 

Sir Mai. (Still searching.) Yes ! Have you met him ? 

Agnes. Yes. He was often at our house in Rome, — that was 
before you arrived. 

Sir Mai. Then you will be glad to meet an old friend ? 

Agnes. No ; for I do not like him. 



16 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Sir Mai. That's a pity. Where can the key be? I thought I 
left it in the lock. 

Agnes. (To Margaret, who is so busy watching Sir Malcolm 
that she does not heed her.) Bid him beware of Strang. You know 
our father suspected him of betraying poor Frank. I suspect him 
still. He is a spiteful man, and because you repulsed him, he re- 
venged himself on our brother. The malice may be turned against 
your husband. Bid him beware. 

Mar. (To Malcolm.) Can you not speak to me for a few 
moments, Malcolm ? 

Sir Mai. Wait only a quarter of an hour, and I will be free till 
the Colonel arrives. I must get the dispatches to give the order to 
march. But I cannot find the key. It is droll ! 

Agnes. (As if surprised.) I do not see it an}' where. 

Mar. (Impulsively.) Oh, Malcolm, I believe I have it. 

Sir Mai. 1 thank you, Madge. It was thoughtful of you to re- 
move it; I ought to have done so myself. (Exit to Library. Agnes 
listens at door. Margaret drops on sofa.) 

Mar. Oh ! why could I not confess all. The meeting I was striv- 
ing to prevent has come, and I am helpless. I dare not wish for vic- 
tory to either husband or father. (To Agnes.) Have you heard 
anything yet ? 

Agnes. No. They will remember us and stay their hands. (Noise 
within as if a chair were upset.) 

Mar. Ah — Oh, my father is not coward enough to strike him 
down without the chance of defence. Why are they so quiet ? This 
silence deafens me. 

Agnes. The door of the ante-room is opening now. 

Mar. Quick, tell me, who is there? I dare not look. 

Agnes. It is Malcolm, unharmed ; his sword is in its scabbard. 
(As Malcolm enters, Margaret turns, and throws herself in his 
anus ; his face is pale and Agnes gazes at him in horror.) 

Sir Mai. (Huskily.) What has occurred to alarm you Margaret ? 

Mar. Nothing, mere fancy. I will tell you by and by, and 

why are you so pale? Why are you trembling? 

Sir Mai. Some one has been in the library. 

Mar. Have you seen anybody ? 

Sir Mai. No; but some miscreant has been there, and, Heaven 
help us, we are betrayed and ruined. 

Mar. Ruined ! What is it you mean ? 

Sir Mai. The dispatches forwarded to me by President Forbes, 
containing important matters, are gone. 

ir eS '\ Gone? 
Mar. j 

Sir Mai. Ay, stolen. And with so many circumstances to render 
the Government suspicious of my honesty, who will hesitate to say 
I have played the knave ; since my neglect has placed within the 
Chevalier's hands the information of which he stands most in need, 
to enable him to outwit our forces and guide him safely to Holy rood? 

Mar. They will not dare to accuse you of such baseness. 

Sir Mai. Dare ! They have the right, and they will use it. The 
dispatches should never have quitted my hands. I should have 



SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 17 

guarded them as a jewel as precious as you are, Madge. But why 
count now what should have been done. They are gone ! My life 
and honor are forfeit. 

Mar. No one has passed through this chamber; the thief must 
be in the library still. 

Sir Mai. No ; the window is open. He has escaped that way. 

Mar. But he cannot have quitted the tower. It is only a minute 
since he was here. 

Sir Mai. " Since he was here ? " Then you know the thief? 

Mar. I do ! I do ! 

Sir Mai. His name, and we may stay him yet. 

Mar. My father. 

Sir Mai. (Excitedly.) Strathroy ! It was with vour connivance, 
then? 

Mar. I feared a meeting between you, and, to prevent it, concealed 
him in the library ; but you cannot believe I knew what was there ? 
; Sir Mai. No, no, wife ! I do not doubt you. But he will carry 
the dispatches straight to the Chevalier, and my shame is complete, 
if we, fail to arrest him. (Ringing a hand bell.) How was he 
dressed ? 

Mar. As a gaberlunzie, with blue gown, badge, and wallet. 

Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e. 

Sir Mai. (To Neil.) Has any one left the tower in the last half 
hour ? 

Neil. No a body, sir. 

Sir Mai. Have you not seen a gaberlunzie, with badge and wallet? 

Neil. Od! ay, sir, I was na counting him. He came to me awhile 
syne in the court, and showed me some papers that he telled me you 
bade him carry to Edinburgh post haste, and he wanted a horse. 

Sir Mai. Did you give him one ? 

Neil. I thought, nae doubt, it was for him ye bade me git a horse 
saddled, so I gied him the brute that was standing ready. The auld 
chield mounted like a jockey, and went off in a gallop. 

Sir Mai. How long ago? 

Neil. I would na just say ; but he will be five miles or mair 
on his road by this time. You need na be feared, Maister, the auld 
chield made a' the speed he could. 

Sir Mai. Mount fifty men. We will pursue him unto the 
very ranks of the rebels, and — (he 2>auses abruptly, on seeing the 
(frightened forms of Margaret and Agnes.) Wait, and I'll give 
you further orders. (Sits at the table, and prepares to write.) No, I 
could not do that. No ; a thousand times rather my own shame, than 
to become her father's executioner. (To Neil.) See the horses 
saddled, and wait instructions. 

(Exit Neil, l. 1 e. Sir Malcolm ivritcs.) 

Mar. Have you resigned the thought of pursuit? 

Sir Mai. Yes. (Still writing.) 

Mar. Oh ! Malcolm, this apparent neglect will only increase 
your danger. 

Sir Mai. It will save him. 
2 



18 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 

Mar. And destroy you. 
Sir Mai. He is your father. 

Mar. They will show you no mercy. 

>S7r Mai. The man who neglects a trust deserves none; 

Mar. Oh ! Malcolm, this must not he. There is one hope left. 
I will go to the President. I will seek the Elector of Hanover, him- 
self. I will tell them that you are innocent ; that it is your wife 
and her father, Lewis, the proscribed Earl of Strathroy, who alone 
are guilty. They may take my life; they may take his; but they 
shall not harm you, or cast suspicion on your truth. 

Sir Mai. Useless, Madge, useless. (Folding and sealing papers ) 
Your confession would only involve your life and your father's in my 
fate. 

Mar. But when I tell them all, they will not doubt. 

Sir Mai. Doubt! These are days when men watch each other's 
lips, and count a bushel of lies to every grain of truth. (Showing 
papers.) There, there, my poor wife, I have adopted the only 
honorable means open to us. 

Mar. What have you done ? 

Sir Mai. I have written to Forbes and General Gardiner, ex- 
plaining to them that the dispatches have been stolen, without 

mentioning the name of the your father. I have offered to 

make any atonement they may demand ; and if they are the true men 
I take them for, they will not refuse to believe me honest. 

Mar. Pray Heaven, that they are true men. 

Sir Mai. Meanwhile, take courage, Madge, to face the worst. 
And you, Aggie — why you have not raised your head this half 
hour ! Come, let me see you both smile; for a sweet smile, you know, 
carries half the burthen of misfortune. 

Agnes. Oh, I am so frightened, Malcolm. (Murmuring in the 
court yard which attracts Margaret's attention; while Sir Mal- 
colm says, in a low whisper, to Agnes:) 

Sir Mai. You must throw away your fears, for I have a charge 
to confide to you. I want you to promise that, whatever happens, 
you will keep near Madge, and try to help and comfort her. 

Agnes. I promise, but don't speak so gloomily. 

(Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e.) 

Neil. (Announcing.) Colonel Strang. (At this name, the ladies 
start. Col. Strang enters l. 1 e. with Dr. Fairlie, followed by 
Sergeant Kyan.) 

Sir Mai. (Advancing.) You are welcome, sir, to Elvanlee. 

Col. Strang. I am proud to know one of his majesty's most de- 
voted adherents. 

Sir Mai. You will prove me so, sir. Permit me to present you 
to Lady Oliphant. (Margaret botos coldly.) 

Col. Si rang. It is the renewal of an acquaintanceship that was 
highly esteemed by me. 

Sir Mai. Ah ! yes, I have just been told that you are old friends. 
Excuse me a moment. (He goes to table, picks up papers, and seems 
to reflect during the following dirdogice; then, as if with a sudden deter- 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 19 

mination, he ml venters to Col. Strang. Strang advances to Mar- 
garet, as Agnes whispers to her. 
Agnes. Beware of him. (She turns to Strang.) 
Col. Strang. ( To Margaret, taking her hand.) Has your lady- 
ship informed Sir Malcolm Oliphant that I once sued in vain for 
the prize which he has won — your hand. 

Margaret. (Snatching her hand from, him.) The acquaintance was 
bo slight, sir. that I did not think it of importance to remember. 
Shall I tell him now? 

Col. Strang. Quite unnecessary. As you say, it is better for- 
gotten. (Margaret leaves — draws Dr. Fairlie aside, and teems 
to be telling him what lias happened. As Malcolm advances to Col. 
Strang, Agnes perceives him, and makes a quick motion to prevent 
him; but before she can stay hint, he breaks the seals, and places the 
letters in Col. Strang's hands.) 

Sir Mai. Bead this, Colonel Strang;. As a friend, I desire your help 
and council in the awkward circumstances which that letter explains. 
(Strang reads, and a malicious smile passes over his face.) 

Col. Strang. The dispatches stolen ! The thief escaped ! This is 
bad news, sir. It is the most unhappy accident that could have be- 
fallen you. Have you no clue to the thief? 

Sir Med. I cannot answer that. 

Col. Strang. Cannot answer! You know the penalty of your 
silence ? 

Sir Med. I do — it is — death. 

Mar. No ! no ! 

Sir Mai. (Strang gives a low order to Kyan. Exit Eyan, l. 1 e.) 
Silence, wife, remember ! 

Col. Strang. You force upon me a most disagreeable duty, but to 
fail in its discharge, would be to subject myself to suspicionof com- 
plicity in your crime. 

Sir Mai. Crime ! 

Col. Strang. Your sword, sir. (As lie surrenders his sword, Eyan 
enters l. 1 e. with a file of soldiers, who surround Malcolm.) 

Mar. (Frantically.) He is innocent! he is innocent! I know 
the criminal. 

Col. Strang. His name? (.4s Margaret is about to give his name, 
Sir Malcolm shouts to her.) 

Sir Med. Margaret ! (Margaret starts toward Strang to reveal 
the name. Malcolm checks her, seizing her arm. She turns, and 
faints into his arms, forming a picture.) 

TABLEAU.— Curtain. 



20 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT II. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — State cabin on board the " Tiger." Port hole in c. F. 
Table and two chairs, on one of which, Malcolm is discovered lean- 
ing on the table. 

Sir Mai. (Solus.) Only a few more hours, and I will have paid the 
penalty of Strathroy's crime. Poor, poor, Madge ! In this letter, 
which the Captain has promised to deliver to President Forbes, I 
have begged him to investigate my case, and clear the stigma from 
my name. I know he will do it, for he is an honorable man. For 
Madge's sake, I have held her father's name unspoken; but I pray 
Heaven, that, before he makes his peace with this world, he will clear 
my name from disgrace, and leave my memory an honor, and not a 
shame, to Scotland. But why have Madge and Fairlie not been to 
see me ? Fairlie's honest face I saw every day during my long and 
tedious trial; but Madge, God help her, "is crushed with grief. (A 
noise without.) Ah! a visitor — who can it be? 

{Enter Dr. Fairlie, l. 2 e , clothes soiled and ruffled, followed by a 
Marine who guards the door. 

Sir Mai Dr. Fairlie ! 

Dr. Fair. I am glad to see you, Elvanlee — I mean, I am sorry to 
see you here. But it appears you are counted a monstrous villain, 
that they won't allow me to see you privately, and this your last 
night in this world. {Glancing at Guard.) 

Sir Mai. I am glad to see you, Fairlie, on any conditions, (grasp- 
ing his hand,) and I am not surprised at the restraint placed upon 
our meetings It is part of an unaccountably rigorous system with 
which I have been treated from the beginning. I cannot guess the 
reason. 

Dr. Fair. I can. That Colonel Strang is the reason. 

Sir Mai. Is he here ? 

Dr. Fair. Yes ; he is here to see the sentence of court-martial 
carried out. (Irritably.) 

Sir Mai. But why should he wish me harm ? 

Dr. Fair. Don't know; but I suppose, as he wanted to marry 
Lady Oliphant before she became your wife, he has a fancy now to 
marry your widow. 

Sir Mai. (Starting.) She never told me of that ; but, hush, Doc- 
tor, you are vexed on my account, and angry with him. Forget him, 
and give me your news. Where is Madge*? 

Dr. Fair. (Taking snuff violently , and glancing at Guard.) Yes, I 
was wrong to blame him, but he interferred with me when I came 
on board, and that put me out. 

Sir Mai. Never mind him. Tell me of my wife. 

Dr. Fair. She has gone to London, in the hope that an appeal to 
the lords regent may help you. I set out in search of Forbes ; but 
finding I could not make certain of reaching him in time, I left 
Johnstone to continue the chase, and returned to Edinburgh. • 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 21 

Sir Mai, My poor wife ! So eager was she to save me, that she 
has deprived me of the one solace I thought was left me — a last 
touch of her hand, a last look of her eyes. That would have given me 
strength, Doctor, to endure this cruel sentence to the end, and it is 
lost. Well, it is better so for her sake, poor lass — poor lass 1 

Dr. Fair. Confound it, Sir, how did we know or imagine that 
your trial was i,o be pushed forward with such da — I mean, dis- 
graceful haste? It is altogether without precedent, Sir; and I'll 
undertake that, if order is ever restored to this unlucky country, 
those concerned in this business shall be called upon for a strict 
reckoning. 

Sir Mai. That will not help me much. 

Dr. Fair. Perhaps not; but it will be a satisfaction to your 
friends. Now, tell me, how do you feel? Are you prepared to be 
made a target of to-morrow ? 

Sir Mai. (Aside.) Is the man crazed? No, I am not prepared. 
The position seems like a dream in which I am conscious of dream- 
ing. I cannot yet realize that this is my last night here ; that 
to-morrow I must die. 

Dr. Fair. (Glancing at Guard.) Well, the sooner you realize it 
the better for you, as there is no hope. 

Sir Mai. (Dreamily.) No hope ! 

Dr. Fair. None; on my arrival in Edinburgh, I hastened to Gen- 
eral Hamilton, I complained, I protested, and I am afraid I swore; 
but he refused to delay the execution even for a day. He reminded 
me that your case was that of a spy 

Sir Mai. A spy ? 

Dr. Fair. Ay, but be quiet; he reminded me that spies were 
usually hung on the spot, and that unusual favor had been granted 
you, for three or four days had been devoted to your affair, and you 
were to be shot, instead of being hung like a common felon. The 
utmost he would grant was permission for me to spend two hours 
with you; (drawing from his fob an immense silver watch ;) forty-five 
minutes have already elapsed. That leaves us one hour and fifteen 
minutes. Sergeant, here's a gold-piece ; can you find a bottle of wine 
for us? (Instead of taking the money, the Guard calls out: "A bottle 
of wine for prisoner.") D — n the fellow, he can't be bribed. It's 
better to be merry than miserable. W T e will be merry for one hour, 
and serious for fifteen minutes. I'm going to tell you a story to 
beguile the time. 

Sir Mai. A story ! I would rather you would allow me time to 
explain my last wishes to you for the arrangement of my affairs. 

Dr. Fair. (Looking hard at him.) I have left a quarter of an 
hour for that. (Places his watch on table between them.) I am going 
to tell you a story ; it will interest you, and be more entertaining to 
our friend, the Sergeant. It is better to be merry than miserable, I 
say, and 

(Enter Boy with wine and exit, l. 2 e.) 

here is something to help us. (Fairlie pours oat a glassful, offers 
it to Guard, who hesitates, but accepts before Fairlie sits it down.) 
2* 



22 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT II. 

Sir Mai. (Aside.) There is certainly more meant than said by 
this man, eccentric as he is. Yes, Fairlie, go on; I will listen to 
your story with all attention. 

Dr. Fair. (To Guard.) That's right; never throw away any of 
the mercies of this world; take all, and be thankful. (Drinking.) 
Your health, sir, and yours, Elvanlee. Now we are comfortable, and 
for the next fifty minutes I am going to try and make you forget 
to-morrow. (His hand rests on table, and, as if by accident, his finger 
points t<> the figure XII.) What was I going to tell you? Oh! I 
remember ; it was about a cousin of mine by the name of John 
Coupland ; (looking at Malcolm;) and by the way, Malcolm, 
he did not look unlike you ; in fact, I believe his own friends 
could hardly distinguish you. Well, as I was going to say, he 
married young) and without a penny, poor devil, and he suffered for 
it ; and his wife suffered too. They were desperately fond of each 
other, though, arid that made amends for much of the trouble they 
had to endure. I believe they would have repeated the blunder, if 
they had the chance, in spite of the Vexatious experience their two 
years of married life afforded them. (Takes snuff , and glances at 
Guard.) 1 do not know how you came to enter his Majesty's ser- 
vice — and here's his health in the captain's Burgundy — but my 
cousin was pressed into it. What made the circumstance most pain- 
ful was, that at the time his wife lay* dying, as he thought, among 
strangers, and without a penny to buy food or procure help. That 
made a bad soldier out of him, as you may understand, and within a 
week after he had been drafted on board his Majesty's ship "Her- 
cules," he had made three attempts to desert, and had stirred up 
half a dozen fools like himself to mutiny. 

Guard. (Shaking his head.) That's always a bad game. 

Dr. Fair. Always a bad game. Sergeant, would you open that 
half-port. This place is stifling, and I believe in plenty of fresh air — 
that's my chief objection to hanging, it interferes with respiration. 
(Guard opens port, c. f.) Thank you. Well, for the first offence 
he was pardoned ; for the second he received four dozen with the 
cat; and for the third he was condemned to be strung at the yard- 
arm. Then the fool became sensible that it was no use fighting 
single-handed against his Majesty's forces, so he resigned himself to 
his fate. He became quite calm and indifferent to life ; he gave no 
trouble to any one ; but whenever he thought of his wife he writhed 
with fury and regret. But quiet as he appeared, he was far from 
tamed yet. The thought of the poor creature lying helpless rendered 
him desperate. He knew the next day he would be made a scare- 
crow for all the dissatisfied spirits on board. There was not the 
slightest chance of mercy being shown him, and (looking steadily at 
Malcolm) what do you" think was the wild notion that entered his 
head, as he lay in darkness heavily ironed ? 

Sir Mai. What? 

Dr. Fair. Why, he determined to escape. 

Sir Mai. Escape? (Aside.) What docs he mean ? 

Dr. Fair. Ay, escape, even though he should live under an as- 
sumed name ever after. 

Guard. I've seen some try that, but they always got the worst of 
it. What could one poor devil do on board ship against so many ? 



SCENE L] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 23 

Dr. Fair. Just that, Sergeant. "What could he do? He could 
attempt what none but desperate men will attempt — to over come the 
impossible. 

Guard. Ay, sir, and how did he set about it? 

Dr. Fair. I am going to tell you. He had no friends on board 
with whom he could arrange a plan of escape ; and even if a friend 
had come aboard, the prisoner would not have been allowed five 
minutes private conversation, (looking steadily at Elvanlee, while 
apparently talking to Guard,) and, to make matters worse, the <; Her- 
cules " was at sea, out of sight of land, so that there was no chance of 
a friend reaching; him. 

Sir Mai. And did he try in spite of that ? 

Dr. Fair. He did, and carried the attempt farther than you 
would have thought possible. His first object was to gain the deck, 
for the crib in which he was confined had no outlet, not even a port- 
hole , save the door. {Fixing his eyes on port, and pointing to figure 
XII on watch.) 

Sir Med. (Aside.) "What does he mean? Ever since he com- 
menced this strange story, his finger has pointed, time and again, 
to the figure twelve. Whatever he means, I'll fathom it. 

Dr. Fair. (Taking snuff.) His appearance of resignation was of 
service to him now. He begged the commander, as a last favor, to 
be allowed to walk on deck for half an hour the night before his 
execution. The commander -was not a hard hearted man, and when 
the request was carried to him, he granted it. The next difficulty 
Coupland had to encounter was to remove his irons. (Looking 
signifieenitly ed Malcolm.) If his limbs had only been free ! (Mal- 
colm becomes more attentive and listens breathlessly.) He felt that 
he could have done anything for his poor wife's sake, even if his 
hands been free. He bargained that, when taking on deck, his 
ankles would be relieved, and then he would only have to deal with 
his wristbands. There was but one way to manage them — to drag 
his hands through in spite of bones and flesh. When the proper 
time came, as he expected, his legs were set free. But when he 
looked around on the great field of sea and sky, his heart failed him 
a bit, Still, drowning was preferable to shooting or hanging any 
day, so he resolved to carry out his plan. If picked up, he could re- 
port himself as a wrecked seaman, and if he sank — then that would 
end all his troubles. It was a wild venture, but it was better than 
no chance at all. There was one thing against him — the moon. She 
was shining as clear as daylight ; but if he had such a night as this, 
his chance of getting away from the "Hercules" would have been 
greatly strengthened. But he had to take things as they were, so, no 
sooner had the marine turned his back than he sprang clear over the 
bulwarks, and fell with a splash into the water. The alarm was raised 
instantly, and a boat was lowered. Everybody w r as on the lookout. 
But Coupland was a good swimmer, and he managed to keep 
under water, until he had drifted a good bit away from the vessel. 
You see, he went with the tide, which was capital, as it saved him 
much labor, but the moon was treacherous. He lifted his head above 
water to obtain breath — he was seen and fired on. Two bullets struck 
him — one broke his arm and the other struck his body. The struggle 



24 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT II. 

was over for him ; for he was stupified with pain, and instead of 
allowing himself to sink, he continued to float until the boat reached 
him, and carried him back to the "Hercules." He lived long 
enough to tell the chaplain all he had thought of and intended 
doing ; and he died declaring he would have done the same thing 
again under the circumstances. [Looking at Elvanlee, and taking 
snuff.) He was a brave fellow. 

Guard. What became of his widow? 

Dr. Fair. Eh ! Oh she lamented — and got married again. 

Guard. That's the way they all do. 

Dr. Fair. They can't help it, poor things; don't blame them. 
Fate was against Coupland, and he was obliged to surrender ; yet he 
died like a sturdy man and not like a knave. 

Si* Mai. [Turns his head. Aside.) The riddle is solved, Fairlie. 
Your well-timed advice shall not be disregarded. 

Guard. Well, that was better than being strung at the yard arm 
or shot. 

Sir Mai. (Aside.) Yes, a thousand times better. 

Dr Fair. (To Guard.) Would you have done the same? 

Guard. I'm not so sure about that. 

Dr. Fair. Because you have seen the result of his endeavor. But 
if Coupland had only had a friend to tell him that at a certain hour 
(tapping the figure XII of his watch, which Malcolm obsen^es,) there 
would be a 'boat waiting for him a mile to leeward of the "Her- 
cules" — a boat which he should discover by a light at the prow, 
which would appear and disappear every two minutes — and if there 
had been no moon that night, don't you think he would have had a 
fair chance of escape? 

Guard. We say in one part of the conntry, "when ifs and ans be- 
come pots and pans, there will be no use for tinkers." (Turns to- 
wards door, 'which he guards as at first.) 

Dr. Fair. What do you say, Elvanlee? 

Sir Mai. He would have had a good chance for life under such 
circumstances, and he would have been a fool not to have taken it, 
seeing there was no other hope for him. (Nods to Dr. Fairlie ) 

Dr. Fair. That's my opinion exactly. But let me see — we have 
used five minutes of the time allowed to your testament. ( Watch- 
ing Malcolm intently.) What is the hour by your time-piece? 

Sir Mai. Five minutes to eleven ! 

Dr. Fair. You are five minutes fast according to my watch, 
so that you have five minutes more of this life than you expected. 
You have ten minutes in which to tell me all your wishes. (Put- 
ting his watch hi his pocket.) 

Sir Mai. All that I possess is to go to my wife, as you will find 
stated in this letter. I suppose, however, the government will seize 
Elvanlee and its belongings ; but you may be able to recover some- 
thing for Margaret, by and by. 

Dr. Fair. (Aside.) Yes, by my soul, if everything works well, 
I'll recover you for her. (To Malcolm.) I have no doubt of being 
able to regain everything. I'll answer for it, Forbes will do your 
memory justice. 

Sir Mai. That thought will comfort me. Tell Madge that I re- 
gret nothing. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 25 



(Enter Strang, l. 2 e. who stands at the door.) 

Tell her I am glad to prove, even with my life, bow much I love 
her. (Perceives Strang, and turns his back to him.) 

Col. Strang. (Aside.) That proud spirit not yet curbed ! Ah, 
well, to-morrow will crush it forever; and then Margaret Oliphant, 
you arc mine irrevocably. (To Dr. Fairlie.) Dr. Fairlie, I am 
sorry to disturb you ; but your two hours have expired, and you 
must take leave of Sir Malcolm. 

Dr. Fair. I obey, sir. Colonel Strang, I must thank you for your 
courtesy to my unfortunate friend and myself. You, sir, have done 
your duty, and I respect you for it. But the best wish I can offer 
you, sir, is, that should misfortune ever fall on you, may those who 
have power over you know how to temper justice with mercy, as you 
have done (Strang bows coldly.) "Well, Elvanlee, farewell ! 

(Exit Fairlie, after an affectionate farewell, L. 2 e.) 

Col. Strang. Egad, Fairlie, from his leaves-taking, seems to be 
as little disturbed as possible concerning his friend's welfare. 

(Exit, l. 2 e.) 

Sir Mai. (Solus.) Oh, Fairlie, you have raised a hope in me that 
shall either be realized, or I will die in the attempt. It is better and 
more noble, at all events, to die in attempting to escape an unjust 
sentence, than to perish like a felon. But did 1 understand him 
exactly ? Yes, for there is the port-hole open. The hour appointed 
twelve o'clock ; a boat to be in readiness to be distinguished by 
a light appearing and disappearing, and my watch five minutes 
fast by his. Noble fellow, what pains he took to inform me of all 
this. But stop, if I am rescued, I am Malcolm Oliphant, the escaped 
traitor, with a price set on my head. Stay, he said Coupland was a 
man much like me. I see it all now, Fairlie, you would have me 
change my name. "Well, then, so be it. (Taking off his coat.) As I 
divest myself of this, so do I shake off the personality of Malcolm 
Oliphant, never to be resumed until Scotland returns it to me, free 
from taint, and spotless as my Madge's honor. (Looking at his watch.) 
Twelve o'clock, but I am five minutes fast. Stride on, oh, time, 
stride on ! (A light appears, is hidden and reappears through port- 
hole.) Ha! the signal. (Bells on deck strike eight bells — 12 o'clock.) 
Ring on, oh, bells ! before thy iron tongues have ceased their clatter, 
Malcolm Oliphant will be silent in death, or free from Scotland's 
wrath. To thee, oh! God, do I commend my future. (Jumps from 
port-hole, c. r. : aloud splash heard in the water. Cries of "man 
overboard." Drums roll.) 

(Enter Strang, l. 2 e., hastily with six Marines.) 

Col. Strang. (Speaking quickly as he enters.) The traitor has 
jumped into the sea. Fire upon him. Aim at every object near, 
and strew his path with leaden death. (Marines file across stage t 
with back to audience, aim and fire simultaneously through the open 
port-hole.) Ha! that shot makes Margaret Oliphant a widow, and 
places me once more in the lists. 

Curtain. 



26 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Exterior of Mrs. Malcolm's Cottage at Stirling. On 
right an arbor with lattice work; on the left steps and porch of 
Cottage. 

(Enter Dr. Fairlie and Capt. Lawrence Spence, l. 2 e.) 

Dr. Fair. And so, Captain Spence, you've fallen in love with 
Aggie, have you? And you want me to be the go-between, do you? 
On my faith, I knew it, man, long before you did yourself. I knew 
very well you did na be coming here sae often, and be a sending her 
the birds you'd shoot, and all that for nothing. It's a bargain, Sir. 
I'll do what you want of me, although match-making is not just 
in the ordinary course of my practice. 

Spence. If you do, Doctor, I shall be your debtor for life. 

Dr. Fair. Egad, that's a big saying, meaning nothing. But 
Mistress Agnes is a bonnie lass, and a good lass, and you are a decent 
sort of a chield, so I'll do what I can for you ; but I'll not let you 
bide my debtor as long as you would like ; you shall pay me prompt 
cash. 

Spence. Only show me how. 

Dr. Fair. Then find out for me whether the Jacobite Earl of 
Strathroy is living or dead. 

Spence. Depend on me for that. It is certain he did not fall at 
Culloden, for all the gentlemen who fell there, or were taken prison- 
ers, were identified. (Fairlie shudders, and takes snuff to disgicise it.) 
Why, Doctor, what is the matter? 

Dr. Fair. Oh, the very mention of Culloden gives me a qualm in 
the stomach. (Abruptly.) You do not doubt my loyalty to King 
George ? 

Spence. Assuredly not. 

Dr. Fair. Well, you'll not misunderstand me, when I say his 
Grace, the Duke of Cumberland, had an easy victory ; and having 
won, his mighty highness would have done just as much service to 
the country, if he had spared us the butchering of the defenceless 
fugitives that is now going on. Even the helpless women-folks do 
not escape, and d — n it, Sir, that's enough to make even a Doctor's 
blood curdle. 

Spence. But these extreme measures may be excused by the fact 
that the rebellion is not yet extinguished. 

Dr. Fair. Nothing can excuse them, sir. Because two or three 
dozen fools want to die, sword in hand, rather than take the chances 
of hanging, that's no reason the whole country should be given to 
the ravages of unprincipled mercenaries. 

Spence. But you forget, Doctor, that only this morning, my 
uncle, General Kerr, received sure intelligence that the remnants of 
the clans, to the number of two thousand, had risen 'in Lochabar. A 
force like that may threaten the peace of the country for a long time. 

Dr. Fair. (Starting.) If the auld fool is living, Strathroy will 
be there. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 27 

Spence. Was it not with him that the traitor, Sir Malcolm Oli- 

phant, was connected? • 

/)/-. Fair. He's dead— a year ago — let him be. {Gruffly.) 

Spenc. Then you arc not aware of the rumor that he is still 
alive? 

Dr. Fair. Eh — Eh? Its nonsense. He was shot in attempting 
to escape, and drowned in the bargain. I saw the report, and, what 
was more, I was told by Colonel Strang, who was ordered to superin- 
tend the execution, that he saw him sink. 

Spence. Such was the report at the time, and, whether true or not, 
it was an unhappy business, for I am told he was a brave fellow. 

Dr. Fair. Brave ! You know Sergeant Coupland, who has been 
doing wonders under your uncle, General Kerr. 

Spence. Yes. The shrewdest and bravest man in the regiment. 

Dr. Fair. Well, if Oliphant had been living and placed under 
similar circumstances, he would have rivalled your pet, Coupland. 

Spence. By the way, what became of his widow ? 

Dr. Fair. (Coughing and fastening his gaiter.) His widow ? Oh, 
she is somewhere in Scotland still, I believe, hiding herself under an 
assumed name. But here we are at Mrs. Malcolm's, and we are for- 
getting your affairs ; so amuse yourself in that arbor and wait there, 
till I "call you. I pledge my word that, in ten minutes, I'll let you 
know your fate. (Exit Spence into arbor.) 

Dr. Fair. (Solus.) So! lam to add another branch to my pro- 
fession, and become a healer of broken hearts as well as broken 
limbs. Ah, happy middle age when one becomes the confidant of 
fond youth, without any suspicion that middle age might become a 
wooer, and do a little business on its own account. But nonsense, 
I'm old enough to be her father. She'd make me miserable every 
hour of my life, if she were fool enough to marry me. A coquette ! 
What would she care about surgery. But she's a kind-hearted 
creature, though a wee bit shallow, maybe — I'm haverin : we maun 
e'en take a tranquilizer and let the bonnie lassie gang. (Agnes 
comes out of cottage, and Fairlie meets her.) Ah ! Puss, how do 
we find ourselves to-day ? Still pale ? Why there has not been 
a bloom on your cheeks — let me see — since Captain Spence was 
here. 

Agnes. What has Captain Spence to do with my looking well or ill ? 

Dr. Fair. Oh, dear me, nothing ! How is your sister ? 

Agnes. Much as usual ; kind and generous to me, firm and calm in 
bearing her own misfortunes. But do you know, Doctor, her manner 
perplexes me ? 

Dr. Fair. Why so ? 

Agnes. Because since poor Malcolm's death, she has at times been 
most miserable, and again in the gayest humor. A week ago she 
said there was an important secret to be delivered to me soon, and 
that you and she were the only persons that knew it. I wonder what 
it is? 

Dr. Fair. So do I. But you are not well? pulse irregular, diges- 
tion out of order. 1 think I know the cause. 

Agnes. I am much better than I was, thank you. But where is 
Captain Spence now ? 



28 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 

Dr. Fair. I will tell you about him presently. Agnes, you have 
suffered some depression lately. Did it concern your sister ? 

Agnes. No, it concerned nobody. 

Dr. Fair. And nobody is always a lover. Oh, did I tell you Captain 
Spence has been wounded ? 

Agnes. (Quickly.) Not seriously ? 

Dr. Fair. Very seriously. He will carry the mark of it to the 
grave; but it won't shorten his life, and I may say he is now beyond 
actual danger. 

Agnes. Are you sure of that ? 

Dr. Fair. Quite. I see that you are interested in the Captain's 
welfare. 

Agnes. Very much — that is — you know that he is a friend of my 
sister. 

Dr. Fair. Just that ; and maintains his friendship for her by 
proxy. However, he has some business with her which he must 
transact personally. He has a great regard for Mrs. Malcolm, and 
often speaks of her. 

Agnes. Of Margaret ? 

Dr. Fair. But as you are interested in him, you shall be the first 
to judge of his convalescence ; he is in the arbor, I will call him. 
(Calls.) " Captain Spence? " (As Capt. Spence advances, Fairlie 
nods to him, and smiles significantly . Spence advances to Agnes, and 
is about to embrace her, but Agnes dratvs back.) 

Agnes. As you have particular business with Mrs. Malcolm, Captain 
Spence, please do not let me detain you. She is in the house. (Spence 
looks bewildered at Fairlie, who nods to him to go on.) 

Spence. I shall not have occasion to see her, unless, with your per- 
mission, to ask her sanction to our marriage. 

Agnes. Captain Spence, to the same question, one week ago, I an- 
swered you no. Have you still the hardihood to brave a second 
refusal ? 

Spence. Yes, Agnes, for with that refusal, you acknowledged a 
deep-felt attachment for me. May 1 say it was something deeper ? 
After such an avowal, think you I would relinquish the treasure so 
easily ? 

I Agnes. Then, Lawrence, if you will be satisfied with me — there is 
my hand. (Agnes gives 1dm htr hand, and he embraces Jeer: they 
retire up the stage,) 

Dr. Fair. (Taking snuff.) And, with a furious charge of small 
arms, the cavalry w.on the day, 

(Enter Mrs. Malcolm from house, who looks to Fairlie for an 
explanation.) 

It means, Madam, that there has been a steady siege for nine months ; 
the garrison held out bravely, but has been taken by stonii and sur- 
rendered unconditionally. 

Spence. (Advancing.) It means, Madam, that I have come to 
ask you, as the guardian of this lady, to resign your charge to me. 
>j Mar. (To Fairlie.) How shall I answer them? "Were my father 
to learn that Agnes, like me, had become the wife of one of his«ene- 



SCENE IT.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 29 

Dr. Fair. Your refusal will render them unhappy. Remember, 
they love each other. You cannot refuse them. 

Mar. You advise this? I see this is a conspiracy, and I must 
yield. But, mind you, there is one condition. 

Spencc. We accept it. 

Mar. No; Agnes, it is you who must accept it. Promise me, for 
the sake of Captain Spence, that you will not become his wife until 
General Kerr shall join your hands. 

Spence. Oh, that will be as soon as I break our engagement to 
him. 

Agnes. (Impulsivel?/.) I accept your conditions freely, Madge. 

Dr. Fair. Then we are quite well now. You young' folks take an 
airing, while we old folks have a talk over your affairs. "When we 
come back, I'll promise we will not find you here. (Spence and 
Agnes exit through arbor, r. Fairlik and Margaret go towards 
the house.) 

Mar. (To Fairlie.) I have done right, since it has made them 
happy. 

Scene II. — A room in Mrs. Malcolm's cottage, door c. f. Enter 
Fairlie and Margaret, c. d. 

Mar. But there is - one thing. Doctor, you did not tell me. What 
of my father ? 

Dr. Fair. When I tell you there is an uprising in Lochaber sus- 
pected, you may easily guess where Strathroy is. 

Mar. Then he is with them, — but, Doctor 

(Enter Servant, l. 1 e.) 

Serv. A man by the name of Johnstone to see Mrs. Malcolm. 
Mar. Send him here. (Exit Servant, l. 1 e.) 

Dr. Fair. This is from the camp. I trust your correspondence 
will never betray us. W 7 hen you have read your letter, you will find 
me in the garden. (Exit, c. D.) 

(Enter Johnstone, l. 1 e.) 

Johns. A letter from my puir Maister, Ma'am. I came to toon 
for a barrel of whiskey, and I'll come back for the answer. 

(Exit Johnstone, l. 1 e.) 
Mar. (Opens letter, and reads.) "My own wife 7 — Ay,. Malcolm, 
always yours, — " nearly a year has passed since we were together, but 
the hour of our triumph is near. I have returned to-day from a suc- 
cessful expedition. The General has publicly acknotoledged my services 
to the Government; and, tJianks to his favor, I ho]je, in a few days, to be 
able to declare myself, and to claim the reversion of the sentence so /tas- 
tily pronounced upon me. Be glad, then, for our separation will only 
endure a little longer. Commend me to our sister Agnes, and to your 
own good thoughts. 

"Your true lover and husband, 

Malcolm." 
3 



80 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 



(As M arg a ket reads last lines, enter Servant, l, 1 e., followed by 
Col. Strang.) 

Serv. Colonel Strang. (Exit Servant, l. 1 e. Margaret crushes 
letter into her pocket, and turns to meet Strang.) 

Col. Strang. Mrs. Malcolm, good clay! 

Mar. To what am I indebted for this visit, Colonel Strang? 

Col. Strang. Your safety, Madame. 

Mar. My safety ! With what peril am I threatened? 

Col. Strang. There is peril everywhere for the friends of the rebels, 
and a petticoat is not privileged in the eyes of his Grace of Cumber- 
land. The mother of the Duke of Perth, the Countess of Strathallen, 
and other ladies have been consigned to prison at Edinburgh. If it 
were known that Mistress Malcolm, who has succeeded in gaining the 
friendship of General Kerr, was none other than the widow of the 
traitor OJiphant and the daughter of Strathroy, imprisonment would 
certainly follow — possibly something else. 

Mar. But I have perpetrated no crime, betrayed no secret. The 
law will protect me. 

Col. Strang. The gibbet and the musket are the only lawgivers of 
the hour. Your crime, Madame, is your relation to two notorious rebels. 

Mar. (Firmly.) But one of them is dead. 

Col. Strang. (Quietly.) That is so, I know, for I was with the 
party who pursued Oliphant, and saw his unhappy end. But, absurd 
as it may seem, there is a report that he is still alive — nay, more, that 
he is the chief agent of the insurgents, and is at present in the camp 
of General Kerr as a spy. 

Mar. (Start'mg, but recovers herself.) That is a very singular re- 
port. What will 1)0 the consequence of it? 

Col. Strang. The result will be this — every man will be examined, 
and the first who fails to answer satisfactorily will be shot on the 
instant. 

Mar. But why tell me of these horrors ? I am not interested. 

Col. Slrang. Pardon me, Madame, 1 fear you are deeply interested; 
the inquiry now on foot will lead to your identification. That is why 
I am here to warn you. 

Mar. I am afraid the warning will not shield me from danger. 

Col. Strang. Ay ! and I have come to tell you that there is one 
near you who is resolved to protect you at all hazard — if you will 
permit him. 

Mar. I am grateful to the friend, but I will allow no one to be 
involved in my distress. 

Col. Strang. But the friend of whom I speak, and it is myself, will 
venture all, my position, my reputation, every thing for your sake. 

Mar. Colonel Strang ! 

Col. Strang. I understand — I have been too abrupt. Forgive me, 
I will be more careful next time. Meanwhile, 

(Enter Fairlie, c. d., and, observing Strang, betrays himself before 
Margaret answers.) 

give me leave to think I have a right to defend you. 



SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 31 

Dr. Fair. (Advancing, and striking Strang on shoulder.) I 
heard you had arrived, Colonel, and, thinking you would be anxious 
to reach the General's quarters, I came to offer my services as guide. 
I know he is expecting you 

Col. Strang. I will accompany you at once (To MARGARET.) 
We part, Madame, but be sure you are safe under my care. Good-bye. 
Now, Doctor, 1 am ready. 

(Exeunt Col. Strang and Fairlie, c. d. who returns again.) 

Dr. Fair. Your father is at 'the head of the gathering at Locha- 
ber. Goodness knows when it will end ; but courage ! courage ! 
— everything depends on that. 

(Exit Eairlie, c. d., and enter Johnstone, l. 1 e. at once ) 

Mar. (Frantically.) YVould you risk your life to save your 
master's ? 

Johns. I would give it, my lady. 

Mar. They are going to examine every man. If he is discovered, 
he will be shot. You must help me to get into the camp to-night. I 
must see your master. 

Johns. You will need a pass. 

Mar. Captain Spence will obtain it for me. Come with me. 

(Exeunt omnes, C. D.) 

Scene III. — Camp of General Kerr,. Time — night. In flat, a 
stream, with tents in the distance. On left, a camp fire, around 
which are gathered Sergeant Kyan, Corporal Hodge, and a 
squad of soldiers ; in the centre are the regimental colors. Peddlers, 
fruit venders, Sfc, <^c, are scattered through the camp. Along the 
river bank marches a Sentinel. Ryan has a young pig in his 
arms. Coupland asleep, R. c. 



Hodge. Evan, you're a hero. 

Ryan. It's the pig ye mane, (giving it to the men ;) but here boys 
go and wash him, and we'll hang him forninst the fire to dry. 

Hodge. Shall we wake Coupland ? 

Ryan. No ; lave him alone till we have something for him to ate. 
He's had the divil's own ride to-day with the Duke's dispatches, 
and he ought to be made a general at least. (Strath roy, disguised 
as an old farmer, rows along the river bank in a boat, and is challenged.) 

Sentinel. Who goes there? 

Strath. (Sloj)s rowing, c.) A friend — if you'll bide a minute till 
I land, I'll let you see my pass. I am just bringing a bit barrel 
o' real Farrentosh for ane Neil Johnstone. (Soldiers hurrah, while 
Strathroy rolls the barrel into camp.) 

Ryan. What ails Johnstone, that he did not come himself? 

Strath. Oh, I could na say. I was just hanging about the stable- 
at the inn ; he wanted somebody to row up here with the keg, and I 
wanted the job. So he gied me his pass and I came awa, and that's 
a' I ken. (Soldiers, Ryan, and Hodge gather round the whiskey, 
and Strathroy advances to right.) Now, that I am here, if I can 
only obtain an idea of their numbers and position, the clans may yet 
strike a blow that will give our king his own again. (Moving towards 
Coupland, and peering into his face.) 



32 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 

Coup. (Starting.) Well, comrade, were you seeking any body? 

Strath. Ay raaister, I was looking for a friend, but you're nae he. 
(Moving away. In the meantime, Coupland rises up, resting his 
elbows on his knees.) By heaven! if they had not assured me that 
Oliphant was dead, I should say yonder he is. {Looking again and 
seeing Coupland sitting up with the glare of the fire on him.) It is 
himself! What does this riddle mean ? 

(Saunters through the camp, and exit, R 3 E.) 

Coup. Has Johnstone returned ? 

Hodge. No, not yet. 

Coup. Oh ! mine is a sad fate ; but I will try to be worthy of 
Madge's sacrifice. It is her honor as well as mine that I am striving 
to win back. She has shared my shame, and, poor lass, she shall be 
glad of my victory. 

(Enter Orderly, r. 3 e.) 

Ord. General Kerr wishes to see Sergeant Coupland at head- 
quarters. 

Coup. (Rising.) Has General Kerr returned ? 

Ord. Yes, and Colonel Strang is with him. 

Coup. (Asi/e.) Strang here! Heavens ! if he recognize me, one 
word will crush the mighty castle of hope I have been building for a 
whole year. But to go back is to lose everything. I must advance, 
whatever fortune awaits me. Go on, I will follow. {Exeunt Coup- 
land and Orderly, r. 3 e. During the above, the soldiers have fixed 
the whiskey in the fork of a tree ) 

Hodge. Oh, here comes the man of the whiskey; and who is that 
he's got with him ? 

(Enter Johnstone, and Margaret disguised as a peasant girl, l. 3 e ) 

Johns. (Throws down a number of drinking horns ) I have 
gotten the barrel ready, lads, and there are the cups, and here's my 
cousin Maggie come to help me fill 'em for you, instead of ould mother 
Hewitt, whose nae very well. (Margaret bows to soldiers.) 

Hodge. I hope you find yourself vera weel, Maggie ? 

Mar. (Starting) Well enough to fill your cups, gentlemen. 
(Pouring some into Ryan's cup ) 

Ryan. I drink to the sunshine of your pretty face, honey. (Sol- 
diers shout vociferously.) 

Johns. (In a low tone to Ryan.) She is Coupland 's lass. Dinna 
let ony o' these fools ill-treat her. (Exit, l. 2 e.) 

Ryan. ( Whistling.) Oh, that's it, is it: and she wants to see him. 
I understand now. 

Hodge. Now, Maggie, give us a kiss to flavor the grog. (Attempt- 
ing to kiss her.) 

Mar. Na, na, my man, that's agin the regulation. 

Hodge. You must pay that price for your passport amongst us. 

Mar. (Aside.) Oh, where is Malcolm? (Decidedly.) If that's 
the price, I'll pay it — but only to one of ye, and you'll hae to let me 
choose the man. 



SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 33 

Hodge. (On whom the liquor is bet/inning to tell.) I am the man, 
then. 

Ryan. (Grasping him by the arm, and throwing him back among his 
comrades.) Be aisy, Corporal, will ye. Sure you can't have all the 
girls in the world to yourself. 

Hodge. That's none of your business. 

Ryan. Now, look here, boys, you wouldn't smother the girl? and 
if only one of us is to have the honor of saluting her, I say that man 
should be the favorite of the regiment, Sergeant Coupland. 

Mar. Where is he? Where is Sergeant Coupland? 

Sol. Here he is, coming along from the General's quarters ? 

Ryan. Keep at a respectable distance, boys, and I'll bring him to 
ye like a lamb. (All move over toivards fire. Sergeant Coupland 
enters, r. 3 e. Ryan meets him.) Is your mouth clean, Coupland, 
because if it is, here is a prize for ye ? 

Sol. (Shouting.) A prize! a prize! 

Coup. But what is the prize ? 

Ryan. (Pointing to Margaret.) That is it, and, by St. Patrick, 
if ye do not thank us for giving it ye, why ye don't deserve it. 

Coup. A woman ? 

Ryan. Av, and a pretty one too. 

Coup. What then ? 

Ryan. W T hat then? Why this, avick, that in token of the brave 
work you have already done, your comrades yield their privileges to 
you, and require you to salute the jewel on their behalf. 

Coup. I'll do that willingly. (Advancing towards each other.) 

Mar. (In a low tone, dropping the plaid from her face.) Malcolm! 

Coup. (Aloud, embracing and kissing her.) Margaret! (Soldiers 
shout u hurrah ! " and return to their grog.) 

Hodge. {Hiccoughing .) I say, comrade, look here, it's all very well 
to salute the wench once in a way, but you arc going too far, and 
make our mouths water. 

Coup. Pardon, comrades, but there's a kiss for each of you, is there 
not? (Kissing Madge.) This for you, Corporal — this for you, Ser- 
geant ; and this 

Hodge. Hold hard, let's have one for ourselves. (Advancing 
towards Margaret; Coupland throws him back.) 

Coup. Stand off a bit. Listen to me, lads. You saw just now 
that 1 hesitated to take the prize you offered me 

Sol. Ay, we saw that. 

Coup. And 3 T ou laughed at me for it! then, you saw me leap at 
your offer. Shall I tell you the reason of the change? It was not 
alone because this lassie's eyes were bright, and her lips red, but be- 
cause I recognized in her face the portrait of an old friend. 

Sol. An old friend ! 

Coup. You have wives, some of you ; and the rest have sweethearts. 

Ryan. Thrue for ye. 

Coup. Well, I had a sweetheart once — so pure, so true that she 
was like one of those stars shining up yonder; and just like that black 
cloud which has covered a dozen of them, misfortune came between 
us, and hid her from my sight. But it could not hide her from my 
thoughts or from my dreams. By the camp-fire: — at the lonely watch 
3* 



34 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 

by the hillside — when the trumpets brayed and cannon roared — when 
the smoke of carnage enveloped us like a black fog — that star was 
always shining over me, giving me thoughts of better things, and 
strength to dare and win them. 

Ryan. And a mighty fine thing was that same star, and here's 
luck to it. 

Coup. Ah, lads, that is what my lass was to me. But there were 
sad thoughts, too, associated with her. At times I remembered that I 
was like one dead to her, and she without a protector in her hour of 
need, and I writhed with the pain of my own helplessness. "Worse 
than that, I recollected that her charms would not lack wooers, and 
the demon of jealousy tortured me with the fear that she might for- 
get me. 

Mar. (In a loio tone, and clinging closer to him.) Never, Malcolm, 
never. 

Coup. It was only a brief pang that, for when doubt darkened on 
me, I used to look up and see the bright hope of her face shining on 
me, and then I tried to make myself worthy of her in faith and in 
truth. Trying to do that gave me the courage to fight wherever 
death was mightiest, and trying to do that has won for me your good 
will and my Sergeant's badge. 

Ryan. And sure ye deserved them all, and the girl into the bargain. 

Coup. Well, comrades, after a weary while of separation and sus- 
pense, do you wonder if I seemed to take more than a fair share of the 
honey on this lassie's lips, when I recognized in her the star I have 
been dreaming about so long? (Soldiers crowd around, and con- 
gratulate him.) 

Ryan. [Grasping his hajid.) Good luck to ye, and, while the girl 
is with us, I promise ye she shall have the respect of a princess. Isn't 
that right, boys ? 

SoL A} r , ay, every word of it. 

Ryan. Then here's to their long lives. (All drink, and return to 
fire.) 

Mar. (In a low tone.) I must speak to you alone. Can you not 
leave this place ? 

Coup. Impossible. That fellow Hodge is out of humor ; he would 
follow us, and that would end in mischief. 

[Enter Strathroy from r. 3 e., going towards river.) 

Strath. I have discovered their strength. Now let me escape 
in safety, and the clans shall march down from Lochabcr like an 
avalanche, and avenge Culloden on the butcher Cumberland. What 
do I see — Oliphant and Margaret. (Drums roll without, Strathroy 
viingles among Soldiers, always keeping himself prominent.) 

Mar. (Clutching Coupland's arm. Aside.) Heavens! if that be 
the order for inspection, he is lost. 

Coup. It is only for the General's guard, Madge, but it warns me 
I shall have to leave you directly. 

Mar. Oh ! how can I warn him of his danger; all eyes are on me ; 
there is but one way. (Turning to Soldiers.) Come, gentlemen, let 
me fill your cups. (As she helps Ryan, and at the same time laughing.) 



SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 35 

Sergeant, what would you do now, if, in the midst of a' this fun and 
guid fellowship, you should find a traitor — a sort of serpent in the 
bosom o' your sodgers? (Coupland looks perplexed; Strathroy 
draws his bonnet closer^ and prepares to run for the river.) 

Ryan. (Taking Coupland by the arm.) Do? I would take the 
blackguard by the throat, as I take your arm, comrade, and I'd shake 
the soul out of him for stealing into honest company ; and thin I'd 
kick him over to the hangman. Shouldn't we, my boy? 

Coup. Surely, surely. 

Strath. (Aside.) How calmly he takes it. 

Rya?i. But who is it that talks of traitors? 

Mar. Oh, I can nae tell you that, exactly; but folks say there is 
ane among ye, and he betrays every thing to the clans, and that is 
how they fash ye sae muckle. 

Hodge. (Drunkenly.) I'll go to the General instantly. 

Mar. Eh, man, but you are ower late. (Looking steadily at Coup- 
land.) The General kens a' about it, and he is to make an inspec- 
tion o' everybody in the camp, and the first man who fails to satisfy 
him by his answer will be shot then and there. 

Ryan. Then we'll show his honor that we keep too good watch in 
our company to let any dirty spy get in it; shall we not, my boy ? 

Coup. Surely, surely. 

Ryan. But who is the ruffian, if you know ? 

Mar. Some great man. Sir Malcolm Oliphant, of Elvanlee, I 
think, was the name I heard. (Soldiers grotel indignantly. Strath- 
roy starts back astonished. Coupland starts slightly, but no one 
observes it.) 

Ryan. Arrah, is it him that was shot and drownded, ye mane? 

Mar. That's just the man. 

Ryan. Then, bad luck to him, but we'll lay his ghost if we catch 
him. Here, boys, drink to the rope that's to hang the traitor Oli- 
phant. (All hands drink but Margaret, which Hodge observes-) 

Hodge. Why don't you join us, Maggie ? Come, take a sip to 
Oliphant's speedy hanging. 

Mar. Me ! I wish naebody ill. I'd rather no 

Coup. (Calmly.) Why not wet your lips to the toast, my lass? 
No knave deserves to live. Come, drink with me to the traitor's 
death. (Bugle sounds, and drums beat.) 

Ryan. (To men.) Tallin! (Men take their muskets, fall in line, 
and march off, r. 2 e. Strathroy hides behind tree.) 

Mar. (Hurriedly) You must escape now. 

Coup. I understand your warning, but it is too late. I have just 
received orders from the General to attend him, as guard, through 
the pass of Lochaber, to-night. 

Mar. He will find another. 

Coup. Still, I cannot move. To fly now is to lose all that I have 
won, and to cast away every hope that makes the future bright. I 
cannot move. 

Mar. It is madness to remain. 

Coup. It is ruin to take flight. 

Mar. Malcolm, Malcolm, I implore you to go. 

Coup. And my love for you bids me stay. 



36 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 

Mar. Oh, let your love for me drive you hence, for it is cruelty to 
me to wait for certain death. 

Coup. It would still be more cruel to you to fly and involve you 
in a fate as sure. Every pass is guarded. We would be seized, 
dragged back to judgment, and the attempted escape would be a con- 
fession of guilt. I stay here to confront my accusers, and the past 
will plead for me. 

Mar. The past will condemn you. 

Coup. Then I will fall, content that I have made full atonement 
for my offense, and you will live to take care of Agnes. 

Mar. Do not think of her. She is safe — she is to become the wife 
of Captain Spence. 

Strath. (Starting for river, but hears this.) Curse you! you would 
take her from me too ; but you shall not, you shall not. (Meets 
Strang.) (Aside.) Strang! (Enters boat, and rows off, l.) 

Col. Strang. (Entering, L. 3 e.) Strath roy is here, and is disguised. 
So! so! (Seeing Coupland and Margaret.) A love affair! I'll 
watch it. ^Stands back.) 

Coup. I am glad of that, but it does not alter my determination. 

Mar. I can plead no more. 

Coup. It is useless, Madge, for I am resolved to meet the worst. 
But you must not remain longer in the camp. Johnstone is your 
guide? 

Mar. He — and another. 

Coup. What other ? 

Mar. Do not ask me. I have promised not to reveal his name. 

Coup. Be it so. Good-bye, we will meet again soon, and if not, 
be comforted, for, in life or death, I love you. (Embraces her. 
Strang advances to front. She perceives him, draws her plaid over 
her face, and starts to run. Strang grasps her plaid, and breaks 
her brooch, which falls to ground.) 

Col. Strang. Hallo — halt my pretty lass ; I should know that form 
and those pretty eyes. (Margaret breaks away, mingles with the 
Soldiers just entering, and escapes, R. 3 e. Strang starts to follow 
her. ) 

Coup. (Throwing himself before him.) Pardon, Colonel, pardon, 
I have something to say. 

Col. Strang. Out of the way, sir. 

Coup. But I have — something to say. 

Col. Strang. You are drunk, rascal. If you have a grain of sense 
left in your muddled brain, you will not persist in this insolence. 

Coup. (Aside) It is a good hint, and I'll take it. (Assuming 
drunkenness.) Pardon, Colonel, I — mean no insolence, but I must 
speak to you. 

Col. Strang. Must, sir ! You forget. 

Coup. .No; I do not forget. You are Colonel Strang, and I am 
Sergeant Coupland, a poor soldier under "your command, food for 
powder, and nothing more. But, sir, even a creature like me has a 
heart, and likes and hates as passionately as nobler men. Ay, and 
the good name of those we love is as precious to us as the honor of 
your house to you. 



SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 37 



(Enter Fairlie, r. 2 e — swyrised.) 

Col. Strang. Bah ! (Shoving him aside.) 

Coup. I am drunk. What matter? I must speak. You would 
pass; you would follow that — woman. 

Col. Strang. Well, if it pleases me. 

Coup. If it does not please me — what then ? 

Col. Strang. The chances are, that if you do not get out of my way 
you will have a sharp lesson on subordination. 

Coup. Ay, that is it; you have the power, and, if you are so 
minded, a word from you would place me in front of a file of my own 
comrades, to be shot. You have the power ; but you are a gentle- 
man, and you will not use it like a scoundrel. You will not ruin a 
poor fellow's happiness, and then shoot him like a dog. You will not 
force your acquaintance on a woman who is so little to you, and so 
very, very much to me. 

Col. Strang. That depends upon the pleasure of the lady. (Aside.) 
Where have I heard that voice before? 

Dr. Fairlie (Advancing, and in low tone.) In Heaven's name, 
what are you doing ? 

Coup. "(Not heeding him.) But this lady, as you have been good 
euough to call her, Colonel, is an honest woman. You cannot wish 
to shame her and to degrade me, who cannot resent the degradation 
as your equal could and would do. 

Col. Strang. Tut, man, stand aside. (Perceiving brooch on ground, 
and p> eking it up. Aside.) What is this? A brooch ! That woman 
was Margaret Oliphant, as I live. 

Coup. (Aside.) Madge's brooch. Heavens ! he has recognized it. 

Col. Strang. You have made a mistake, my good fellow, if you 
hoped to gain favor in the eyes of that lady. 

Coup. Pardon, Colonel, I fear it is you who are mistaken. 

Col. Strang. The lady, sir, whom you dared to insult with your 
pretensions, is my affianced wife. Are you satisfied ? 

(Exit, r. 3 e.) 

Coup. (Sounds of drums. Clutching Fairlie's arms.) You are 
my friend, Doctor. You will help me. The General is coming this 
way ; you will obtain for me a pass to quit the camp. 

Dr. Fair. Leave the camp now ! What are you thinking about, 
man ? 

Coup. Only for twenty-four hours. I must have it, I tell you — I 
must see Margaret. 

Dr. Fair. Body o'me ! man, you'll wring my arm out o' the 
socket, if you keep tugging at it that way. So you shall see her, 
in good time ; meanwhile, control yourself. 

Coup. Control myself! I am mad — I cannot control myself— so 
much the more reason why I should have the pass. 

Dr. Fair. But you can't have it to-night. 

Coup. But I must. 

Dr. Fair. (Grasjnng him by the shoulder, and turning his face in 
the glare of the fire.) Confound it, Sir, you canna be jealous of your 
wife. 



38 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 

Coup. No — no, and yet — yes — I am jealous, not of her — but of her 
position. Did you not hear what Strang said? Have you no ears — 
no eyes? He called her his affianced wife, man, his affianced wife. 

Dr. Fair. Then he lied, which is nothing unusual for him. 

Coup. Ay, ay, he lied; but remember my position. I am dead, 
yet living. My death has been proved by witnesses; and living, I 
am an outcast against whom every man's hand is raised. 

Dr. Fair. That's a capital reason why you should try and recover 
your senses enow. 

Coup. Margaret, my wife, persecuted by that man, is defenceless — ■ 
is at his mercy, for I dare not speak. 

Dr. Fair. You do not doubt her truth ? 

Coup. No — no — Heaven help me, I hardly know what I doubt, 
or fear, or hope. She besought me to escape from the country with 
her, and I refused — fool that I was. How do I know what danger, 
what impulse may have wrung from her some warrant for the claim 
Strang makes ? Get me the pass. 

Dr. Fair. It is her life you hazard as well as your own. 

'Coup. Get me the pass, even for her sake. 

Dr. Fair. (Turning away.) No, if you are bound for destruction, 
I won't quicken your journey. 

{Enter General Kerr and Staff, r. 8 e.) 

Coup. Destruction will come, then. {Advancing to Kerr.) Gen- 
eral Kerr? 

Gen. Kerr. Speak. 

Coup. An affair of life and death to me, your Excellency, demands 
my absence from the camp. If anything I have ever done has won 
your favor, I implore you, General, let it plead for me now, and grant 
me a pass for twenty-four hours. 

Gen. Kerr. When ? 

Coup. Now, now, on the instant. 

Gen. Kerr. Impossible. You are ordered to guide us through 
Lochaber, and we march at once. 

Coup. Spare me, General, spare me? 

Gen. Kerr. Sergeant Coupland, you have hitherto borne yourself 
like a true soldier and a brave man. But the man who would desert 
his post at the moment of greatest need is a coward and a traitor, and 
we shoot such men. Do not lay yourself open to a suspicion of that 
character. 

Coup. Bat, General, there are desires, hopes, wrongs 

Gen. Kerr. There is nothing to a soldier but his duty. To your 
ranks, sir. (Coupland salutes, and takes his place in the ranks.) 

{Enter Strang, r. 3 e. ) 

Col. Strang. {Aside ) Curse her, she gave me the slip. But now, 
to turn Strathroy's visit to account. General Kerr, I have a com- 
munication to make, but, as a lady is peculiarly involved in the in- 
formation, I am compelled to crave your forbearance, and beg you 
will ask me no more than I am at liberty to tell. 

Gen. Kerr. The lady's interests shall be respected. Proceed. 



ACT IV — SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 39 

Col. Strang. Thank you. The communication must be accepted 
entirely on my word. There will be no rising of the clans to-morrow, 
if we succeed, to-night, in arresting the mainspring of the conspiracy, 
Strathroy. Or, if we can prevent his joining the clans, that will 
serve the same purpose. 

Gen. Kerr. You have heard of him, then? 

Col. Strang. Yes, General, and you will be displeased to learn 
where he has been. 

Gen. Kerr. I know him, and wish he had been on our side, rather 
than against us. Where has he been ? 

Col. Strang. In the camp. 

Gen. Kerr. What! Here in our midst, and permitted to escape ? 

Col. Strang. He has been amongst us, General, but he has not 
escaped. 

Gen Kerr. Where is he, then? Let us find Strathroy, and we 
will extinguish the rebellion ; for it is only his mad enthusiasm that 
keeps it afive. Colonel Strang, you and I have this night missed the 
grandest opportunity that fortune is ever likely to offer us. Speak, 
tell me all you know. 

Col. Strayig. Wherever he may be, sir, our business is to prevent 
him reaching Auchnacarry, where the rendezvous is appointed for to- 
morrow. 

Gen. Kerr. It will be no easy matter to prevent him, since he has 
the start of us ; and no doubt carries information of our position and 
strength. 

Col. Strang. Without a doubt, General. But give me a dozen of 
your best dragoons, and I'll stake my future that we bar his way to 
Lochaber, if we do not capture him, before to-morrow night. 

Gen. Kerr. So be it. Sergeant Coupland will accompany Colonel 
Strang with a squad to guard the passes of Auchnacarry. 

Coup. Mercy, General, mercy. (Solviees fall in.) 

Gen. Kerr. Sergeant Coupland, you are on a soldier's duty. Take 
care you do not disgrace it. Eor the second time, I order you back to 
your ranks. (Soldiers march off, l. 3 e.) 

Coup. {Huskily.) I obey. 

TABLEAU.— Curtain. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Mrs. Malcolm's garden. House in the background. 
Agnes and Strang discovered. 

Col Strang. I trust you will pardon my early visit, Miss Agnes, 
but I have matters of much importance to communicate to Mrs. Mal- 
colm. 

Agnes. She is employed in the garden, I believe. I will send for her. 

Col. Strang. Before you send, I have something to tell you. 

Agnes. {Carelessly.) I hope it will not take long. Are we dis- 
covered, and are you going to bring all General Kerr's army to 
capture a couple of women ? 



40 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

Col. Strang. (Half aside.) Poor thing, how little she guesses 
what is coming. (To Agnes.) Your sister was out late last night ! 

Agnes. (Faintly.) Yes. 

Col. Strang. Do you know who was her companion? 

Agnes. It is of little consequence to me, sir, who was her com- 
panion. 

Col. Strang. Pardon me, Mistress Agnes, if I think it is of much 
consequence. I crave your pardon still more earnestly if I am the 
first to warn you that Capt. Spence is not the honest man you and I 
believed him to be. I was his friend and confidant, until I dis- 
covered that he was deceiving a lady whom I esteem so profoundly 
as yourself. 

Agnes. (Ringing bell.) I do not understand your suggestion, 
Colonel Strang, nor do I wish to understand it. 

Col. Strang. It is my respect for you that has tempted me to 
speak, and hazard your displeasure. 

(Enter Se u v ant /rom House.) 

Agnes. Go down the garden path, and tell Mrs. Malcolm, that 
Colonel Strang desires to speak to her on urgent business. (Exit 
Servant, l. 2 e. Agnes bows and retires to right. Strang saunters 
among the floicers. Aside.) So, Madge, the visit, last night, is 
explained at last. I see it all now — I see why she refused to tell me 
where she had been. Ah! what have 1 done to deserve this, what 
have I done? (Exit, r. 2 e.) 

(Enter Margaret, l. 2 e., with gauntlets on her hand, and carrying a 
pruning knife.) 

Col. Strang. You are early at work, Madame? 

Mar. Good morning, Colonel — excuse my hand — you see the 
glove. Yes, I am early astir, as you see, and (significantly,) you know 
the early bird catches the worm. What a beautiful morning. 

Colonel Strang. (Seating himself on a garden seat.) I look at you 
and say yes — any morning would be beautiful to me if I could see 
you. 

Mar. (Brushing rose bush, and pretending not to hear him.) How 
these spiteful little worms destroy my roses ; they eat the heart out of 
my buds, and seem to thrive on it. 

Col. Strang. Poor roses ! 1 have a passion for them — they are like 
love; the full-bloom, brilliant but brief; then, withered leaves. But 
the perfume, ah, that never dies, for memory holds it always. 

Mar. I fear, Colonel, you would sacrifice your commission if the 
General heard you speak that way. 

Col. Strang. It is a sun-stroke, Madame, and you are the sun. 
(Attempting to seize her hand.) 

Mar. (Drawing it away, and holding up the pruning knife.) Take 
care of your fingers, Colonel Strang ; the knife is sharp. (Trimming 
a bush.) See how it snips off the worthless stems, that those which are . 
meant to live may be relieved and strengthened. 

Col. Strang. (Stooping down, and picking up the branch, on which 
he lays the brooch.) See what curious things sometimes hang on a 
discarded branch. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 41 

Mar. (Starting.) My brooch 1 I — I must have dropped it some- 
where. 

CU. Strang. Apparently so. 

Mar. "Where did you find it ? 

Col. Strang. Where ? Ahem — I found it over there in the 
garden. 

Mar. You are wrong, sir ; I lost it in the camp last night, and 
you found it there. 

Col. Strang. That's true— but I thought 

Mar. Well, sir! That I wished to conceal my adventure. Why? 

Col. Strang. Well, there are some things which a lady does not 
wish every one to know. 

Mar. But this is not one of them. Fie, Colonel, you, who pre- 
tend to be my friend, are the first to magnify a whim — a mere freak 
of curiosity — into an act of grave suspicion. Why do you not charge 
me at once with being an accomplice of the rebels? I am sure you 
are thinking something dreadful about me. 

Col. Strang. What your purpose may have been, Madam, I do not 
know, and I shall not inquire — if you are wise. 

Mar. (Aside.) Heavens ! does he suspect the truth? 

Col. Strang. It is said that Malcolm Oliphant- is still alive. Of 
course the rumor is absurd ; but it imperils your safety and your 
sister's happiness. There is only one way by which you can prove 
its falsehood. 

Mar. (Looking at him steadily.) You mean 

Col. Strang. Become my wife without delay. Kefuse, and I will 
learn before the day is out, why you visited the camp, by arresting 
the drunken fellow who attempted to prevent my following you last 
night. 

Mar. (Aside.) If I refuse, all will be lost. You are so abrupt, 
Colonel, and so ridiculously stern, that you quite frighten me. 
Suppose — suppose I had an admirer among the brave soldiers of 
General Kerr's army, would it be very wonderful ? I begin to think 
you are — shall I say it? jealous. 

Col. Strang. I am, because I love you. How many years have 
I waited, patiently serving you? I have tried to win you, Madam, 
by every art which love could device, save one. 

Mar. You do yourself injustice, sir. I think you have left noth- 
ing undone to compel my submission. 

Col. Strang. There is one influence yet untried — force 

Mar. You are frank at all events ; and I perceive that our in- 
terview is to be most unpleasant if we prolong it. Let us be merciful 
to ourselves, remembering we have not yet breakfasted, and close 
the question. Permit me to aid you — I have resolved never to 
marry again. (Moves towards the house.) Good morning, sir. 

Col. Strang. (Stopping her.) You must retract your resolution, 
Madam, you must retract it, and that before I leave you. 

Mar. Must ? 

Col. Strang. Must ! You shall not laugh me off", nor frown me 
down this time. I have a fancy to fix the date of our marriage now. 
I love you, and this must be the excuse for all I do. 



42 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IT. 

Mar. (Aside.) I cannot conquer; there is but one alternative ; 
I must pretend to yield. Then pity me, and give me time to think — 
to prepare for the change. 

Col. Strong. It is because I pity you that I will not wait. — Look — 
in yonder ruins lurks a rebel, on whose head a heavy price is set — 
Strathroy. His capture will be the final blow to the rebellion. A 
word from me lost night, and he would have been in the hands of 
his pursuers. He has owed his life to me more than once — it hangs 
upon j'our answer. now. 

Mar. You would not betray one whose friend you pretend to be ? 

Col. Strang. Kemain obstinate, and, within an hour, your father 
will be in the hands of General Kerr ; before nightfall, your admirer 
in the camp will be swinging from the highest tree top in Strath 
Tay. 

Mar. (Aside.) My last hope gone — I must assume subrnissive- 
ness. You have conquered — I consent. 

Col. Strang. You consent ! Thanks, Madam, thanks. At last 
you are generous, and the fidelity of my life is rewarded. 

Mar. You left me no alternative, sir. 

Col. Strang. You shall not regret my persistance. But the 
ceremony must take place at once — everything urges haste. Say, 
then, to-morrow. 

Mar. Yes — I consent to that also. 

Col. Strang. I will prove my gratitude by drawing off the chase 
from yonder tower. Adieu — to-morrow you will be my wife, and I 
shall be happy. (Exit, n. 2 e.) 

Mar. So ! I have gained twenty-four hours truce, Heaven forgive 
me ! — by a lie ! To-morrow, Malcolm and I shall be far from Scot- 
land — or dead. 

(Enter Johnstone, l. 3 E.) 

My faithful Neil, are you here? 

Johns. The master bade me come, and he said I was to be quick, 
or he'd be here afore me. 

Mar. He is coming, then ! This is the gladdest tidings I have 
had for many a day. Neil, if your love ever wished to render faith- 
ful service to your master, do it now. Procure two horses, and keep 
them saddled in yonder ruin until nightfall. If we can only gain 
the coast, I fear nothing. 

Johns. Yes, my lady, I am going . 

Mar. AYas there any further message? 

Johns. Ay, there was, but no frae the master. 

Mar. Not from him? 

Johns. No, it was no frae him ; but as I was coming up the road, 
a cbield covered up to the throat in a muckle cloak, loups out on me, 
and says : " I ken you" — " for an honest man, I hope," say I, — " for 
a servant of the Oliphants," says he ; " give that to your mistress ; " 
and before I could say ay or no, he slips this bit ring in my hand, 
and was ower the hedge and out o' sight. (Giving her the ring.) 

Mar. (Aside.) My father's signet! Johnstone, remember my 
orders, two horses in yonder ruin at midnight. 

Jolms. Ay, my lady. I'll nae forget it. (Exit, l. 3 e.) 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 43 

Mar. Then, he is coming here. And on an important errand 
too, for, otherwise, the signet of the Strathroy elan would never 
have left his finger. 

[Enter Strathroy, r. 3 e., disguised, and excited as if pursued.) 

(Embracing him.) Oh, father, why do you venture here? 

Strath. [Not observing her.) They follow, they follow. The air 
is loud with their voices. The tramp of their feet, the clang of their 
arms, the roll of their drums, ring in my ears, sleeping or waking, 
like the roar of a merciless cataract, from whose track I cannot 
break. But the work goes on — yes, yes — I am assured of that — the 
work goes on. (To Margaret.) You are here? 

Mar. Father, must you add another pang to the misery I already 
suffer through j^our unkindness ? 

Strath. It is the guilty who suffer ; the faithful are lifted above 
all sorrow. Hearken! (Bends forward, listening.) Hearken! the 
hounds bay at my heels, their fangs are sharpened to tear me piece- 
meal, and I laugh at them. Day and night they follow me — hunt 
me like a criminal — set a price on my head, and frighten cowardly 
churls into enmity against me. They have left me no where to 
shelter myself, save the lair of the wild beast on the desolate moun- 
tain side. They have broken the ranks of our followers, they murder 
our friends, and still I laugh at them, for the work goes on in spite 
of all. 

Mar. But you are to escape now } you are to fly from this un- 
happy country, when your cause has been utterly lost. 

Strath. Fly the country — the cause lost ! No ; my place is here. 
to give the faltering courage, and to rally the faithful for the final 
blow, which will be^ I tell you, woman, it must be — victorious. 

Mar. Are you desperate enough to hope for victory over an 
army, with a handful of broken down and dispirited men ? 

Strath. Ay, we hope — we can always hope. 

Mar. Oh ! father, can you not see that the sun of the Stuarts 
sank forever on the dismal fields of Culloden ? 

Strath. Culloden ;— Ay, the sun went down on that dreadful 
da^f — but it will rise to-morrow — it will rise to-morrow. 

Mar. Never ! father, never ! 

Strath. We are a handful of men, as you say, but behind us and 
around us is a multitude of martyrs, whose spirits will rise and join 
us in the strife. The White Kose shall bloom again— fresh and 
radiant, the symbol of our country's honor and content. 

Mar. You must not remain here, father ; any one who passes on 
the road may see you. The soldiers are seeking you, and Colonel 
Strang is a dangerous man. 

Strath. I know him — he will not harm me. 

Mar. But you must save yourself. 

Strath. Ay, ay, I must save myself, but why— why am I here ? 
There was a "purpose— but my memory fails me— my memory fails 
me, and a thousand lives are dependent upon it. What was it? 

Mar. You are fatigued, father; come in the house. I am not 
known here as your daughter, and the house may escape suspicion. 
Come, Agnes will wait upon you, and I will watch. 



44 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

Strath. (Quickly.) Ah! I remember now. It was of Agnes I 
came to speak. 

Mar. Let us go in first. ( Urging him in.) 

Strath. You have arranged a marriage for her. Oh, thoughtful 
sister ! Oh, treacherous daughter ! You have chosen a husband for 
her from the malignant crew who are pursuing her father to the 
death. But you must undo your work, and before I quit this place. 
The marriage must be broken off. There shall be no more rebels in 
my family, no more rebels, no more rebels. 

Mar. But — they love each other. 

Strath. She shall learn to love a better man. 

Mar. You distract me. You will kill her. 

Strath. Then let her perish — she will die as the daughter of 
Strathroy, and not as the wife of a traitor. You hear? — you under- 
derstand — you will obey ? 

Mar. No ! 

Strath. No ? 

Mar. I have borne and borne until my heart is broken, but I 
will not help you to break hers. 

Strath. Take care ! 

Mar. Ask me to walk into the midst of your foes and to deliver 
rip my life for yours, and I will do it. But you ask me to tear the 
hope of happiness from her heart, to destroy her peace, and I refuse. 
I will not do it. 

Strath. You refuse? Observe, then. — The person called General 
Xerr shall learn that Malcolm Oliphant still lives, and is in his camp. 
(Starts to go.) 

Mar. (Stopping him.) You shall not go yet, sir, at least do not 
leave your cruel work half done. Take your sword and kill me — it 
will be one act of mercy to plead for you in heaven for all the 
wretchedness your fanaticism has caused us. 

Strath. You are the daughter who forsook her father for a 
stranger. You have wedded with a renegade and apostate ; but 
Agnes must be saved. 

Mar. Saved at the cost of her own despair and ours. You cast 
me off — shall I act so ? As my father, I have uttered no word of 
reproach — as a stranger, what should I say ? 

Strath. Will you obey ? 

Mar. I would say that, trusting to your honesty, I, the wife of 
the man whom you call renegade and apostate — I gave you an oppor- 
tunity to rob him of his trust and so place his life in jeopardy. 

Strath. I served the king. 

Mar. Serve him still, then, and throw aside our kinship. "What 
is my duty now? To summon assistance, arrest, and deliver you to 
General Kerr, as the man to whose knavery my husband owes his 
degradation. But, alas ! even for one so brave, so generous, so noble 
as Malcolm, I cannot forget I am your child. 

Strath. This marriage must not take place, or upon your head 
rest the consequences. 

Mar. I will obey. But see, father, the soldiers. (Pointing.) 

Strath. (G)-asping his sword.) Your opportunity has come, 
Madam — I am at your mercy. 



SCENE I.] LOTE AND JEALOUSY. 45 

Mar. No, no, father, you are followed ; you will be seized. 
Merciful heavens can you not hear — can you not understand? Will 
not even the name of the king rouse you to save yourself? 

Strath. (Starting.) Ay, that name would rouse me from death. 

Mar. Come, then. Go into the first room on the right ; lock the 
door, and remain there till I call you. I will stop here to answer 
questions and, if possible, prevent the house being searched. 

Strath. One last service you may render me. (Giving her a 
jxtckct ) Take this packet — my safety depends on it, and perhaps 
your husband's. If the worst befalls me, give this to Colonel 
Strang. 

Mar. To him ! "What fatal influence is it which involves that 
man in every grief of my life ? Beware of him, father, he will 
betray you. 

Strath. In that case, open you the packet and use the contents as 
you may think best. * But let that be the last resource. Meanwhile, 
see that you keep faith with me in all things, for I will be near you. 

(Exit Strathroy into house.) 

(Enter Fairlie, l. 1 e.) 

Dr. Fair. Ahem, I'm doubting, Madam, your father has not 
brought you muckle comfort. 

Mar. You have seen him ? 

Dr. Fair. Ay, he was just going Into the house as I came up to 
the gate. What was the particular object of his Lordship's present 
mission ? 

Mar. To overthrow all that we have striven so hard to gain for 
the past year. But here comes Agnes. Listen, and you shall learn 
all. 

(Enter Agnes, r. 2 e., Margaret takes her hand.) 

You will forgive me, Agnes, for the pain I must cause you. You 
will forgive me if I seem to wrong you. 

Agnes. Seem to wrong me ? 

Mar. Ay, wrong you, for I must forbid your marriage with Cap- 
tain Spence. 

Agnes. (Starting, as does Fairlie.) You have spoken at last ! 
And for what reason must you forbid it ? 

Mar. It is our father's command, and I — we dare not disobey him. 

Agnes. You did not think so once. 

Mar. Agnes ! You could have spared me that reproach. But I 
cannot blame you ; only be patient. I must help you by and by ; 
but at present I dare not oppose our father's wish. 

Agnes. There is a reason why you do not wish to disobey him. 

Mar. There is a reason, but it is my secret. I have kept it from 
you hitherto, because your knowledge of it would involve you too 
deeply in my danger. 

Agnes. I do not fear the danger. Tell me your secret now. 

Mar. No, there is more need to-day than ever to hide it. You 
must trust me a little while longer yet. 
4* 



46 LOVE ANJ JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

Agnes. Trust you, trust you ! that is always the excuse of those 

who" fear the truth. I will not trust you 1 will not give him up, 

for I love him — I love him. [Throws herself in a chair.) 

Mar. Do as you will, then ; marry him, and destroy my peace 
forever; then, see if that will afford you any happiness. 

(Exit, L. 1 E.) 

Agnes. Madge, Madge— pity me ; stay and explain. No, she has 
gone. Marry him, and destroy her peace forever; but she has not 
hesitated to destroy mine. 

Dr. Fair. (Aside.) I never did believe that two women could 
agree without a quarrel. Poor child ! she ought to have more 
sense. She must be very fond of him. Well, what's that to me? 
Dr. Fairlie, you're a selfish old fool ; you would like to part 
them, because you fancy she might content herself with another. 
Bah, you're an ass. (Moving to Agnes, and patting her on the head.) 
Mrs. Malcolm said, patience, Agnes, and I say patience too. "We'll 
make it all right by and by, I promise you; and you can trust me. 
We shall see, Aggie, my lass. You must*be very fond of him. (Going 
towards door ) Mind what I have told you ; be patient till you hear 
from me. (Aside.) There is going to be an explosion directly, and 
that devil Strathroy is firing the train. The daughters dare not 
betray him ; that would be a severe breach of filial affection ; but, 
d — n the old blackguard, he's no kin to me. Why may not I deliver 
up the rebel, and save them? Doubtless some means might be found 
to save his life. If I leave him alone, I sacrifice the happiness of the 
whole household. A man's conscience and a man's duty should go 
hand in hand, although his feelings may not join them. Here, con- 
science, duty, and feeling urge me to rescue four creatures at the 
expense of one lunatic (Pauses, takes snuff, and closes box with a 
snap.) The majority carries the day. 

(Enter Spence, l. 1 e.) 

(To Spence.) You are just in time; there is a recruit that needs 
bracing up with a little manual exercise. (Exit, l. 1 e. Spenck 
goes up to Agnes, throivs his arms around her, and kisses her.) 

Agnes. (Jumping tip.) Let me go, sir, let me go, or (Spence 

kisses her again.) I detest you. 

Spence. I would think you were jesting, Agnes, if you did not 
look so much in earnest. 

Agnes. I am in earnest Go away. I don't want to see you again; 
I hope to forget you. I hope oh, I hope I may die. 

Spence. Then / should be sorry. 

Agnes. Would you ? No, no, you would not ; you would be glad, 
for you are a cruel — a — wicked — and a false man. (Throwing her 
head on his shoulder.) 

Spence. Come, come, Aggie — there is some mistake here — give 
me a chance to remove it. 

Agnes. You cannot, you cannot — nobody can. 

Spence. Let us know what it is first. I swear, by every thing on 
earth, that I am true to you. Now tell me what is the matter. 

Agnes. (Faintly ) Answer me one question and I will believe you. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 47 

Spence. A million, if that will satisfy you. 

Agnes. One will do, and try to be serious. "Where did you go 
yesterday after leaving this house? 

Spence. I returned to the camp. 

Agnes. [Sharply.) Ay, you returned to the camp; and with 
whom ? Don't speak, don't tell me a lie. 

Spence. (Aside.) Mrs. Malcolm can take this home to herself. 
She assured me her visit had nothing to do with the Pretender's 
cause, and I promised secrecy. Oh, if I could but retract my word, 
and spare this poor girl's feelings. (To Agnes.) You ask me to 
reveal another's secret. I have promised to be silent even to you. 
I cannot break my word. 

Agnes. You prefer to part with me. 

Spence. I would sacrifice anything rather than vex you, Agnes, 
but you yourself would blame me if I were coward enough to betray 
a confidence reposed in me, and especially the confidence of a lady, 
who, at the moment, had no one to trust but me. 

Agnes. "Who was the lady ? 

Spence* I have told you perhaps more than I should have done. 
You must be satisfied with that. 

Agnes. Enough, sir. I am satisfied that the man who cannot 
trust me with the knowledge of every action of his life, is not the 
man who should become my husband, 

(Enter Gen'l Kerr and ~RYAX,folloiced by Margaret, l. 1 e.) 

Gen. Kerr. (To Eyan.) Keep the men well concealed, but at 
the same time watch every entrance. (Exit Eyan, l. 1 e.) At 
length, Strathroy, thanks to Fairlie, you are in my power. But how 
could he get shelter here ? 

Spence. (To Agnes.) I do not know what ridiculous sus- 
picion has got into your head ; but here is my uncle, and I will 
compel you to own how little I have deserved this doubt of my 
sincerity. (To Kerr,) I must speak to you, General Kerr, for an 
instant, and beg you to help me out of a strait before you proceed 
farther. 

Gen. Kerr. Go on, Lawrence, I can spare you an instant. 

Spence. I am glad you are here, Mistress Malcolm ; you are 
interested in the service I am about to ask of my uncle. (To Kerr ) 
As my guardian, General Kerr, you have the first right to know the 
lady I have chosen for my wife. She is here. (Presenting Agnes.) 
Will you ask Mistress Malcolm for her consent to my union with 
her sister ? 

Mar. (Aside.) Should my father hear this, his vengeance will 
fall upon me. 

Gen. Kerr. You have chosen well, Lawrence; I could not have 
wished you a better wife. I am sure Mrs. Malcolm will join me in 
congratulating you. 

Agnes. (Aside.) How she trembles. 

Gen. Kerr. You do not speak, Madam. I trust there is no 
obstacle on your side to mar the happiness of these young folks. I 
will undertake to satisfy you of my nephew's position and prospects. 



48 LOYE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

They understand each other, and there is nothing needed hut your 
consent. 

Mar. I am somewhat distressed hy this demand — and — and— ; - 
without offence, would ask time to consider — to arrange, in fact, 
for the change which this marriage would effect in my affairs. 

Gen. Kerr. Certainly, Madam, certainly. You can give your 
consent now, and consider afterwards. 

Mar. I cannot give my consent, and I cannot explain why. 

Spence. You cannot, Madam? You must not withdraw the 
promise you gave me. 

Mar. There are reasons and circumstances which compel me to act 
thus strangely. 

Agnes. (Aside.) How she loves him! Nay, Madge, although 
you have destroyed my happiness, I will he generous, and spare you. 
There is but one alternative. (To Spence.) Ay, circumstances have 
occurred which she cannot explain, hut I will. This marriage cannot 
take place. 

Spence. Agnes, Agnes, what are you saying ? 

Agnes. Oh, sir, cease this pretense 1 understand it all. (To 

Kerr.) This marriage cannot take place, sir; not because it wants 
my sister's consent, but because it wants mine. Captain Spence, I 
refuse to be your wife. 

Spence. Kefuse ! And why ? 

Agnes. Do you press me for the reason? Then I will tell 
you. It is because truth and loyalty can never join hands with 
treason. 

Mar. (Aside,) What is she about to say ? 

Gen. Kerr. Treason ! That is an ugly word to use against an 
officer of my staff. I trust you will explain your meaning. 

Agnes. I have said treason, but it is not treason to the State; it 

is treason to a trusting woman, and (Aside.) Oh, what am I 

about to do. Plunge Madge into deeper shame before the eyes of all 
here ? No. He does not know my true name — I will try that, and 
save us both. 

Gen. Kerr. Proceed. 

Agnes. I commit to you, Captain Spence, to ask General Kerr if 
he will favor your union with Agnes Murray, daughter of the pro- 
scribed Earl of Strathroy. 

Mar. (Aside ) She has betrayed us. Oh, Agnes, how could you 
do it, how could you do it ? 

Gen. Kerr. The daughter of Strathroy ! Then, this lady is the 
wife of Oliphant Elvanlee? 

Agnes. Oh, what have I done? I have ruined you, Madge, I 
have ruined you. 

Gen. Kerr. No, by Heaven, I will never sanction such an union. 
But there must be some mistake here. Speak, Madam, is it true 
that you are the Lady of Elvanlee ? 

Mar. It is true. 

Gen. Kerr. (Aside.) Strathroy \s presence here is at length ex- 
plained. The proscribed father seeks refuge beneath a sorrow- 
stricken daughter's roof. I pity her, from my heart, I pity her, but 
I must do my duty. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 49 



{Enter Strang hurriedly, L 1 e.) 

Col. Strang (To Margaret.) Be calm. I have come to save 
your father. He has been betrayed ; but trust me — I will hazard 
everything for your sake. (To Kerr.) I have been seeking you, 
General, with the strangest tidings. 

Gen Kerr. Strange tidings ! You are too late, sir, if you meant 
to surprise me. Nothing can astonish me more than what I have 
heard within the last minute. Doif your hat, sir, and salute the 
Lady of Elvanlee, and the daughters of the rebel Strathroy. (Strang 
starts, astonished.) 

Spence. The fault is not theirs, General, that Strathroy still clings 
to the man he recognizes as king. It is not their fault that Oliphant 
betrayed the high trust reposed in him. You will not, sir, you can- 
not destroy my happiness for a single prejudice. 

Gen. Kerr. The prejudice of a nation, sir, must be respected. 
Your happiness ! Speak to me of your honor and I will answer you. 

Spence. My honor is involved in the pledge I have given this 
lady. 

Gen. Kerr. Enough, sir; so long as you claim my friendship, do 
not speak to me of this engagement. 

Spence. (To Agnes.) Are you satisfied with what you have 
done? 

Agnes. You are free — what more do you want ? 

(Agnes exit into house.) 

Gen. Kerr. It is well you are parted. You cannot relieve your- 
self too soon of a family of traitors. 

Mar. This is enough of insult, General Kerr. Kespect a woman's 
position. I would not have asked your respect, had this hand been 
fit to use a sword. 

Gen. Kerr. 1 mean no insult, Madam, and of course I expect you 
to defend Oliphant. 

Mar. I do not defend him. I declare him innocent ; he was no 
traitor. 

Gen. Kerr. You cannot say otherwise. 

Mar. I say it, because I know the truth; and, before the Great 
Judge of all, his honor will weigh in the balance even with your 
own, General Kerr. 

Gen. Kerr. I should be sorry to disturb your convictions, Madame, 
but, if he was innocent, who was guilty ? ( Margaret bows her head. ) 
You are silent. Good. Silence is a prudent answer to unpleasant 
questions. 

(Fairlie and Coupland enter at back, R. Cotjpland endeavours to 
tear himself away, and rush to Margaret ; but Dr. Fairlie re- 
strains him. They stand back of the tree. Kerr moves towards 
house. ) 

Col. Strang. I must crave your hearing, General, for a few 
minutes; I have something to say which 1 trust will restore this 
unfortunate lady to your esteem. 



50 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

Gen. Kerr. My esteem, sir, she has not lost; but I must pity her 
the more. 

Col. Strang. You will give her something more than pity when 
you have heard me. Lift up your head, Madam; there is no shaine 
in any act of yours to bow it down. You cannot doubt, General, 
that I hate Oliphant and Strathroy as thoroughly as any honest 
man should ; but, at the same time, I admire the courage of this 
lady, and her devotion to our cause. 

Gen. Kerr. To our cause ? 

Col. Strang. I have said to our cause, and I will prove to you, 
General, that she belongs to us, for to-morrow, I, Colonel Henry 
Strang — whose fealty to the government no one will dare to ques- 
tion — I will marry the widow of Oliphant of Elvanlee. 

Dr. Fair. [Aside.) Good Heavens ! what is the meaning of 
that ? 

Coup. (To Fairi.ie ) What— what is it he says ? 

Gen. Kerr. How ! You are to marry her ! 

Col. Strang. That is the honor in store for me. 

Gen. Kerr. I regret I cannot congratulate you, Qolonel Strang. 

Coup. (Grasping Fairlie's arm.) She does not say he lies? 

Dr. Fair. For the Lord's sake, man, bide here a minute till I 
find out what this means. (Advancing to Margaret.) I don't 
think you heard what was said, Madam. It can't be possible that 
you have agreed to accept the Colonel. 

Mar. I have heard — it is true. 

Coup. (Aside.) She owns it — she confesses it. 

Col. Strang. And why not, Doctor, since she has worn widow's 
weeds almost a year. 

Dr. Fair. Widow's nonsense, sir. She is no — Eh? (talcing siiuff,) 
ay, why not ? She told me she'd never surrender her liberty to man 
again, and I believed her, or else you might have had a rival in me, 
sir. But it is quite possible that she should change her mind. You 
are a sly rascal, Colonel, and widow's weeds are weeds. (Flourish- 
ing handkerchief.) 

Coup. (Advancing, and stepping between Margaret and Strang.) 
Everything is possible to the faithless — is it not? 

Mar. (Aside) Great Heaven ! Malcolm here ! 

Coup. Your husband is dead, then — Is he not? He is dead, and 
there is no other who has a claim upon your fidelity. 

Mar. (Aside.) Oh ! merciful Father fill his heart with faith. 
Let him look into my face and recognize my agony ! Let him look 
into my eyes and read there the truth of my love ! 

Col. Strang. Who is this man ? 

Coup. (Turning to him.) Sergeant Coupland is the man, at your 
service, Colonel. 

Gen. Kerr. , Where is your pass, sir. 

Coup. I have none, General. 

Gen. Kerr. Do you know to what penalty you have exposed 
yourself by leaving your post ? 

Coup. Yes, General, I have considered all. I have considered 
the hazards of my position — and accepted them. 

Gen. Kerr. Are you mad, sir, or drunk? 



SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 51 

Coup. Mad, perhaps, your Excellency, but not drunk. If General 
Kerr pleases to remember the faithful services and hitherto good 
conduct of his follower, he will probably pardon the offence. But if 
he desires to present to his army a severe example of the penalty of 
insubordination, he will cause him to he shot or hung before the day 
is out. In either case, General, I shall endeavor to prove myself a 
worthy follower of the brave commander I have served. 

Gen. Kerr. Retire, sir, retire; we will consider your offence 
another time. 

Coup. One instant, General. I have asked this lady a question. 
She knows I have the right to demand the answer — and I wait for it. 
Col. Strang. By what right, insolent scoundrel, do you dare to 
question this lady ? 

Coup. Your answer, Madam. 

Col. Strang. By Heaven! if you disobey another instant, I'll 
have you whipped from the place like a disobedient cur. 
Coup. Your answer. (Strang grasps him.) 
Gen. Kerr. (Interfering.) You forget, Sergeant Coupland, it is 

Colonel Strang. who speaks. You forget 

Coup. Pardon me, your Excellency, I forget nothing. You do 
not understand how I am placed ; by and by I will explain, and you 
will pity or shoot me, I do not care which. 
Gen. Kerr. Be wise, and retire. 

Coup. Not yet, your Excellency. I am obstinate — you will 
excuse if you do not pardon me, when you know why. You think 
me insolent for'daring to intrude on the attention of this brave lady; 
but ladies of higher place have stooped before, and humbler men 
than I have dared to love them. That is not all — bid her tell the 
rest. See how dumb she is — challenge her to speak — see how she 
trembles— charge her to say why — see how pallid is her cheek. — Oh, 
Heaven, command her to declare the truth — that if false to me she 
is a perjured and dishonored woman. 

Mar. Oh ! must I bear all this ! I must be silent. It is for his 
sake. 

Col. Strang. (Aside.) Decidedly 1 will have this fellow shot. 
Answer the fool, Madam, and let him go. 

Covp. Ay, answer the fool, Madam, and let him go. 

Mar. (With an effort.) You have mistaken your position and 
mine, sir. What answer can I give to the effrontery which dares to 
charge me with perjury and dishonor? 

Coup. Tell this man, then, that he was mistaken — that you cannot 
be his wife. 

Mar. What answer can I give to this madness, sir ? 

Coup. Madness ! 

Mar. I do not know you, sir. 

Coup. Margaret ? 

Mar. I do not know you. I can only surmise that you are some 
weak creature, who has neither courage nor faith. 

Coup. Not know me ? Oh, then I will probe your memory to the 

quick ; for here, in the presence of General Kerr, I do deliver 

(Aside.) What am I about to do? Murder myself and leave them 
free to laugh at my fate ? — No, I'll bide my time— I'll plot and scheme 



52 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 

till I wreak on them retaliation for this perfidy. You have heard 
her sirs ; you laugh at me, and you do not shudder at her infamy. 
Oh, but I am only a petty soldier, a thing to carry a gun, to shoot 
down the foes of my country and be shot in return. But she is a 
lady, and has only amused her leisure hours with my misery. You 
are right — it is a subject for sport. I am a fool, and ought to have 
known the treachery and falsehood of women. (Laughing hoarsely.) 
Why, I laugh at my own folly, now I have grown wiser by your 
instruction. 

Dr. Fair. (In a low tone.) Coupland, for the Lord's sake, re- 
member. 

Coup. Oh, I remember — Margaret — save me — save me from 
myself — from this demon that has got possession of me. Speak only 
one word — say this man lies — I will believe you, though your acts, 
your life, and all the world should conspire to prove you false. (As 
Margaret is about to speak, Strang separates them.) You do not 
answer — you — oh, woman! I curse you ! curse you! and I hate you! 

Mar. (Aside.) And I love you. (Her head falls, and Coupland 
hastens to her, but Fairlie stops him.) , 

Col. Strang You have heard this man, General, with more 
patience than most men. You have heard his insults, you have 
heard her answer. . You cannot doubt her word. 

Gen. Kerr. The man risks too much to speak entirely without 
warrant. 

Col. Strang. He is a deserter, your Excellency, and a deserter from 
a post on which the whole success of last night's movements may 
depend. So pardon me, if I think his Grace of Cumberland might 
consider such clemency a dangerous foe to the discipline of your 
forces. 

Gen. Kerr. (Lifting his hat.) I am your debtor, Colonel Strang, 
for this reminder of my duty. Pronounce judgment against the man 
yourself. You have served his Grace longer, and better than I. 

Col. Strang. I dare not do that in the presence of my superior, 
and besides my indignation against the knave unfits me to be his 
judge. But I do ask your permission to remove this lady in doors, 
or remove this ruffian instantly. 

Gen. Kerr. (To Spence.) Conduct Sergeant Coupland to the 
camp. I will accept his parole that he will not leave his quarters 
till I examine his case. 

Dr. Fair. (To Coupland.) Don't stand there like a fool. There 
never was a man had such a narrow escape, and never was one who 
knows so little how to profit by it. Come away. 

Coup. I have heard. Move on, sir, I will follow you. 

(Exeunt Spence, Coupland, and Fairlie, l. 1 e.) 

Gen. Kerr. Now, sir, since the man has been removed, I must 
ask you to conduct this lady and her sister to our head-quarters. 

Col. Strang. You do not mean, General, that you are to arrest two 
ladies under my protection? 

Gen. Kerr. Whether they become prisoners or not will depend 
upon after events. (Exeunt Strang and Margaret, l. 1 e.) 

Gen. Kerr. (Solus.) Now, that they are gone, for Strathroy. I 
could not arrest him in their presence, for he will fight to the death. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 53 



[Enter Fairlie, l. 1 e.) 

Dr. Fair. You will save him if you can, General ? On my soul ! 
— since I have come to the point, I am sorry I told you. 

Gen. Kerr. Console yourself, Dr. Fairlie, you have saved the lives 
of thousands. 

Dr. Fair. Yes; but the thousands won't thank me for it. And, 

confound it, sir, d n the word I would have said, had I not hop* d 

to have saved his neck at the last moment. "Will you help me? 

Gen. Kerr. Help you, in what way ? 

Dr. Fair. By allowing me to dispatch a messenger to President 
Forbes. 

Gen. Kerr. Assuredly. But remember, the Duke controls every- 
thing. 

Dr. Fair. I understand ; but I will try Forbes against him at 
any rate. Give me a pass ; the man Johnstone will be my courier. 

Gen. Kerr. Come with me, then, and I will give you the pass. 

[Exeunt, l. 1 e.) 

[Enter Strathroy from House, enveloped in a cloak. He vails 
cautiously around the stage, and is proceeding towards the back, 
when General Kerr confronts him, l. 3 e.) 

Strath. What's your will with me? Ye carina mean to harm an 
auld man like me, that might be your granny. 

Gen. Kerr. The mask is well played, my Lord, but I was pre- 
pared for it. Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy, I arrest you for 
high treason, in the name of King George. (Kerr draws his pistol. 
Strathroy throws off his disguise, and draws his.) 

Strath. For two minutes, General Kerr, we are man to man. 
We are equally armed, and before your men can reach us, one of us 
will be dead. Before we try which it will be, I ask you to give 
me a fair start of your blood-hounds, and so save for George of 
Hanover, his worthiest General. [Squad of Soldiers heard ad- 
vancing.) 

Gen. Kerr. [Levelling his pistol.) My life is devoted to the 
service of the country. 

Strath. [Taking aim.) And mine is for the king. I have offered 
terms 

Gen. Kerr. And I have answered. 

Strath. So be it ; at least let us fire together. Count three with 
me. ( They count "one" " two" a musket shot is heard. Drop- 
ping his right arm to his side ,) Treachery! (Soldiers rush upon hi>n T 
from L. 2 e. He fires, one falls, but before he can raise his pistol, they 
surround and bind him.) 

TABLEAU.— Curtain. 



54 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. ^ACT V. 



ACT Y. 

Scene I. — Hall in Quarters of Gen'l Kerr. In c. r. a large iv'uidow 
looking out on terrace, and over it is a. gallery running the breadth 
of the stage. On the gallery are three windows ; steps ascend to it, 
L. c. All the windows are heavily curtained, and the room is well 
furnished. Writing materials, and a case containing a pair of pistols 
are on the table. Kerr is seated at table, R., and Fairlie stands 
beside him. 

Dr. Fair. How long since you received the Duke's dispatch ? 
Gen. Kerr. Ahout half an hour, and measures are now being 
taken to put them into execution. 

Dr. Fair. You are resolved, then, that the execution is to take 
place in the morning ? 

Gen. Kerr. I have no alternative. My instructions are explicit — 
to give him no quarter, if he refused to deliver up all who were 
involved with him in the conspiracy. He has refused — as I knew he 
would; and, if he lives till to-morrow, Cumberland's instructions 
must be obeyed. 

Dr. Fair. I hope he wont live, then. I believe, if there were 
time allowed for a petition, we might save his head, in spite of all he 
has done. 

Gen. Kerr. I would join you in the petition willingly, for he was 

a brave soldier. But think of something else — how is her Ladyship? 

Dr. Fair. The capture of her father has sorely affected her, and I 

do not know how to tell her that the sentence has been so speedily 

pronounced. 

Gen. Kerr. She has guessed it already, I dare say ; so you need 
not trouble yourself. What of her sister ? 

Dr. Fair. Poor child, she can hardly move or speak. She blames 
herself for it all, on account of the foolish pet in which she revealed 
herself to you. There is no medium with a woman, sir — it is either 
all right or all wrong with her — I love you or I hate you. 

Gen. Kerr. She was ignorant, then, that the rebel was in the 
house ? 

Dr. Fair. She was ignorant of every thing. Lady Oliphant kept 
the secret and the sorrow to herself. 

Gen. Kerr. She is a brave woman! I admire her courage and 
devotion, and I wish I could help her. But we must strike promptly, 
for an attempt to rescue Strathroy is on foot. "We have doubled the 
guard, and every soldier has been instructed, on peril of his life, to 
let no one pass without a written order, and to shoot any one that 
may be seen prowling about the place. (A disturbance is heard out- 
side. The door is pushed open, and Margaret enters with Guard, 
l. 2 E., who attempts to keep her back.) 
Mar. I must see the General. 

Gen. Kerr. Admit her. {Exit Guard, l. 2 e.) 

Dr. Fair. (Aside.) She knows the worst. 

Mar. Forgive me, sir, for forcing my way to you — I know my 
visit is untimely, and that I have come to ask you what you may not 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 55 

have in your power to grant. But, in despair, we clutch at the 
feeblest rays of light, and try to cheat ourselves by fancying it is not 
dark. They tell me that — that my father is to die to-morrow. 

Gen. Kerr. Such are the Duke's commands. 

Mar. But I have come to you, sir, to beg a few days respite, until 
Ave can communicate with friends who ma}' have influence with the 
Government. 

G n. Kerr. I grieve to say, Madam, that it is impossible for me 
to delay. 

Mar. (Falling on her knees, and grasping one of his hands.) Mercy ! 
General, mercy ! It is only a few days I am begging. I know that 
he is guilty in your eyes. (Proudly.) I do not try to exculpate him. 
It is only mercy I am sueing for, and I dare not speak of justice. Ah, 
sir ! your hair is white, like my father's, and your heart is kind. 
You too might have had a daughter like me. Think of her placed 
as I am, and say what should be the answer of the man to whom she 
knelt, as I to you ? 

Gen. Kerr. (Turning away his head.) Rise, Madam, rise. 

Mar, I will not till you have answered me. It is only a little 
"boon I crave, only a few days of life to one, who is no criminal 
further than being too faithful to an unfortunate king. You are 
strong — you will be merciful. Stretch your authority a little way, 
and give me time to plead his cause before the stern judges who have 
condemned him unheard. 

Gen. Kerr. If honor permitted me to stretch the limit of duty, 
trust me, Madam, it should be done for your sake. I pity you — I 
respect him — hut what you ask I dare not grant. 

Mar. (Clasping her hands, and letting her head fall upon her 
breast.) Then, Heaven receive his soul, and pardon those who doom 
him ! 

Gen. Kerr. Try to comfort her, Fairlie. I have never found 
duty so hard to fulfil as mine to-night. [Exit, R. 2 E.) 

Dr. Fair. (Aside.) Comfort her? Time must do that — he is the 
only comforter of despair. There is only one prescription for her 
ailment — accept the inevitable and look to the possible. (To Mar- 
garet.) House yourself, my poor child Before morning your 
father will be beyond the influence of prayers or tears. He has been 
too seriously wounded to survive the night. Rouse yourself, then ; 
leave him to the unfailing mercy of Heaven, and think of your own 
affairs (whispering) of Oliphant. 

Mar. (Rising to her feet.) Thank you — good, trife friend. You, 
for one, never doubted me. 

Dr. Fair. I will doubt instantly, unless you show yourself worthy 
of my confidence, hy becoming calm and steady to face the clangers 
that environ you. You once told me that every woman was a hero, 
and, upon my soul! there never was a woman who had so fair a 
chance to prove herself one, as you have to-night. 

Ma-. I will obey you, sir. I wipe away my tears — I have done 
with them. I think of my father as already beyond the reach of 
mortal pain. The dead need none of our care, none of our sorrow — 
it is the living who need all. Show me what is to be done, and you 
will find me calm and subtle as the foes we have to cope with. 



56 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Dr. Fair. St. Andrew and ^Esculapius be my witnesses ! I begin 
to think your boast, spoken in jest, sober earnest. Have you told 
Aggie that Oliphant lives ? 

Mar. Yes, when it was too late. Oh ! Doctor, had I but told her 
at first, what a world of woe would we have been spared. 

Dr. Fair. True! true! but don't think of that. Listen; there is 
a person much to be feared on your husband's account, a foe treach- 
erous and unscrupulous — Colonel Strang. He already more than 
suspects the real character of Sergeant Coupland, and has issued 
orders for his arrest on a charge of treason. If Oliphant does not 
escape before midnight, he will be a prisoner before morning. 

Mar. I am not unprepared for this. I have every thing in readi- 
ness for our flight. He will be here presently, and. we will escape 
together. I have written him to meet me here. 

Dr. Fair. [Starting.) Oliphant coming here! iEsculapius! again 
bear witness — I think fate itself is against us. He will be shot — Oli- 
phant, I mean — shot before he gains entrance, or, if he do get in, 
he will be shot afterwards, and that is much the same thing. 

Mar. [Excitedly.) I will go and meet him. 

Dr. Fair. You can't. Strathroy is here, and you will not be per- 
mitted to pass. I dare not leave the General, and I have sent John- 
stone post-haste to Edinburgh. "What, in the name of all the Saints 
in the calendar of medicine, shall I do ? 

Mar. (Quickly.) There is one friend you have forgotten. Cap- 
tain Spence will help us. 

Dr. Fair. That's the man ! Your head is clearer than mine, after 
all. I shall end my admiration of you by marrying somebody. The 
Captain will go, and he shall take two or three men with him, so 
that he may use force, if necessary, to compel Oliphant to abandon 
his mad purpose of seeing you to-night. Courage! Madam, courage! 
and hope still. (Exit, L. 2 e.) 

Mar. (Solas.) Oh ! my God ! when the heart is bursting, how 
hard it is to say " Thy will be done." What a sad fate is mine ! My 
father within this house — perhaps within the sound of my voice — 
■dying, or living to perish under a traitor's doom. A few steps will 
carry me to his prison, and yet I dare not go to him to pray with 
him — to comfort his last moments with a daughter's love. My poor 
father ! My poor father ! Oh ! forgive me whatever wrong I have 
done you, whatever pain I have caused you. But I must think of 
the living. Malcolm is to be saved. Will Dr. Fairlie be in time to 
intercept him ? If he should fail to find Captain Spence, or, worst 
of all, suppose Colonel Strang should find me here and detain me, 
Malcolm's escape would be impossible. How can I prevent that? 
There is but one way. (Sitting at table, and taking pen.) I will 
write to Colonel Strang, and make an appointment to meet him here 
to-morrow at eight. That is remote enough to afford time for escape. 

( Writes.) " My dear Colonel Strang " (Pauses.) What ! must I 

write a love letter to him! The man I loathe ! No ! I cannot do it. 
( Throws down pen.) 

Sent. (Outside.) Who goes there ? 

Mar. Merciful Powers ! it cannot be Malcolm ! 

Sent. (Outside) Stand, in the king's name. (Sounds of musketry 
and tramping of feet, §c.) 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 57 

Mar. (Throwing back curtain, and letting a flood of moonlight into 

the room.) Heavens! there is a man running, and soldiers in pur- 
suit. It is Malcolm! and they will kill him! kill him there before 
my eyes! God— save him! Is there no escape — no help? Great 
God ! they are gaining on him. [Seizing one of the pistols on table. ) 
I can bear no more — they shall not kill him ! (Fires the pistol, then 
staggers, falls and faints. Coupland passes quickly, L. to R., in back- 
ground, and, conceals himself in the shadow of the house. Strathroy 
leaps through the window quickly, although he is very weak. He docs 
not perceive Margaret.) 

Strath. Aha! treacherous devils as you are, weak, ay, and dying 
as I am, I'll outwit you yet. But I must have strength, even if it 
be to crawl to some kennel, and there breathe my last. My very 
life's blood seems to be oozing from my wound. What is this? a 
stairway to the gallery? I'll make that a hiding-place until escape 
is possible. Courage ! Strathroy, courage ! There is work yet to be 
done — work yet to be done. (Goes up stairs and secretes himself 
behind heavy curtains, just as Ryan, Hodge and four Soldiers enter, 
with much noise, through window.) 

Ryan. Are ye sure ye saw him come this way? 

Hodge. Didn't ye see him yourself? 

Ryan. How could I, when that bullet whistled through my sleeve 
and nearly kilt me, and blinded me entirely ? 

Hodge. Do you keep your eyes in your cuff? I tell you I saw 
him run in at that window there, and there's an open door. He's off 
that way— after me, two of you. 

(Exeunt Hodge and, two Soldiers, r. 3 e.) 

Ryan. The rest of ye see where these doors lead to, and I'll keep 
guard here, (Exeunt Soldiers, r. and l.) 
(Stumbling over pistol.) What's that, now? A pistol, and warm too? 
{Examining it.) Bedad! this is the thing that nearly settled Sergeant 
Ryan's affairs. There are traitors here, then, anyhow, and -(Per- 
ceiving Margaret.) Muther of Moses! — a woman in a faint. Poor 
creature, she's been frightend out of her seven senses, (Raises Mar- 
garet.) 

Mar. (Faintly.) Is he dead? 

Ryan. No, Ma'am, there's nobody dead yet, but there will be, by 
and by. 

Mar. (Regarding him.) Ah, it is you ! You are his friend — you 
will save him ! 

Ryan. Is it me ye ax to save the ugly gossoon ? He's here, then, 
up there maybe? (Pointing to gallery.) I'll show ye how I'll save 
him. (Moves towards gallery.) 

Mar. (Springing after him.) It was Coupland. There was no 
treason in his purpose. He came here to to see me. 

Ryan. (Scratching his head.) That's it, is it? Coupland hisself, 
and on a tryst with ye? Oh, begorra ! I've been spoiling honest sport. 
Bad luck to him, why couldn't he stop and tell me. Hold a bit — 
I've seen you before, Ma'am. In the camp, wasn't it? 

Mar. Yes, y es ; you will save him ? 

Ryan. Make your mind aisy, Ma'am ; I'll do my best for ye both. 
(Taking the other pistol.) 
5* 



5S LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Mdt. Thanks, thanks. But what are you doing? 
kyan. It's all right, Ma'am— be aisy, and stand behind this cur- 
tain* (Margaret obeys him.) 

Mar. But that will bring back your men. 

Ryan. It's that same I mean, Ma'am. (Kyan goes to window and 
fires; Hodge and Soldiers ?°ush into room.) 
Hodge. Have you seen him ? 

Ryan. Sure enough, he's just gone by, running for the wall, and 
I tired at him. 

Hodge. And missed— as usual. 

Ryan. Bad luck to it ! Ye can't always hit the mark yourself. 
After him, now, and don't stand palavering. 

Hodge. Come on, lads. If I only set my eyes on him, he won't 
get off so easy. (Exeunt Hodge and Soldiers, through window.) 
Ryan. Ye can come out, Ma'am. 

Mar. (Coming out.) You have been a true friend to me and a 
true comrade to Coupland, and, if I live, you shall have proof of my 
gratitude. 

Ryan. All right, Ma'am, ye can see him in safety now. The boys 
won't be back for an hour anyhow. I am going to give them a walk 
for the good of their health. (Exit through window.) 

Mar. Malcolm — (louder,) Malcolm. (Coupland advances from 
shadow of house, and approaches window.) In — in! (She closes 
windows and curtains. Courland's clothes are disarranged, and he 
wears no hat. He scats himself in a chair, and seems exhausted.) 
This is a bitter meeting, Malcolm, and yet I am so full of joy at the 
escape you have just made, that I do not know whether to laugh or 
tremble most, at your coming. 

Coup. {Huskily.) You requested me to attend you here, Madam. 
I have come, and I await the explanation which I presume you intend 
to give me. Doubtless it will transform the cruelest treachery into 
the most loyal devotion. 

Mar. (Bewildered.) Is that a taunt or a jest? No matter, I 
have not time to answer it just now, for you must not stay here a 
moment longer than to say good-bye. 

Coup. (Playing with the letter she had commenced.) Is that all? 

Mar. When I sent for you I did not know orders had been given 

for your arrest ; and that, in asking you to come to this place, I was, 

in my blindness, drawing you towards the destruction of all my 

plans for your safety. 

Coup. Are you sure of that ? 

Mar. How could I have known, and sent for you? As soon as I 
discovered the danger, I dispatched a faithful friend to meet you and 
prevent your coming. 

Coup. It was by your direction, then, that Captain Spence and 
his men attempted to arrest me ? 

Mar. It was by my direction that they attempted to prevent your 
approaching the General's quarters. 

Coup. (Sarcastically.) I thought as much; but you see I have 
eluded them, but only to be pressed by Kyan and his squad. But 
twice I gave them the slip ; once they hunted me out of my hiding 
place; the second time I succeeded, and, instead of me, they set out 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 59 

in pursuit of some poor devil, perhaps, on as fruitless an errand 
as I am. But, continue. Your explanation promises to be inter- 
esting. 

Mar. That is a taunt. Can it be that you do not understand my 
position yet? Can it be that throughout the hours which have 
passed since morning — weary hours of anguish and suspense to me — 
no memory of the past has roused you to a sense of the wromj; you 
do me ? Are you still blind ? 

Coup. No, by Heaven ! my eyes are opened wide at last, and I 
see you as you are — a false wife and a perjured woman. 

Mar. Oh, Malcolm, yon deprive me of what little courage yet 
remains to me. 

Coup. "What courage ? Is it courage to betray me that fails you ? 

Mar. {Angrily ) Dare you say that ? 

Coup. I dare repeat it. Is it courage to betray me that you fear 
to lose? {Margaret is about to speak.) Peace, woman! your 
quivering lips proclaim the lie you would utter. When you bade 
me come here to learn the truth of all that seemed so strange to 
me, I shuddered at the thought of the cruel wrong I had done you. 

Mar. Think of that now. If you have ever loved me 

Coup. Loved you ? Great Heavens ! How I loved you ! So 
well, that I was content to be befooled by your shallow artifices ; so 
well, that I was content to believe anything — to deny the testimony 
of my own eyes — my own ears — ay, of reason itself, rather than 
believe you false. And you knew that ; you calculated that my lore 
would be your best ally in cheating me. I came here reckless of 
life, reckless of the pledge I gave the General not to quit the 
camp — I came to find your rendezvous a trap to insure my capture 
and death — I came to find that, at the moment you thought my fate 
was sealed, you were writing a love letter to your accomplice, 
Strang. {Shows her the letter.) 

Mar. Oh, Heaven forgive you ! 

Coup. What was to follow this pretty introduction ? Shall I fill 
up the blank which my inopportune arrival made in this tender 
billet? This is no doubt what you were to write. "My dear 
Colonel Strang, every obstacle to our union being removed by the 
execution of the impertinent person you had the misfortune to 
encounter this morning, the ceremony may proceed without delay. 1 ' 
Is not that the proposed continuation ? Sit down, Madam, sit down 
and finish this letter. Pray do not allow my presence to interrupt 
you. 

Mar. And you can'think these cruel thoughts of me ? 

Coup. Thoughts, Madam ! They are not thoughts — but acts. 
Oh, if there were any doubt on which to rest a hope, my love would 
now quickly seize it, and magnify it to a mountain's bulk. But 
there are no doubts — there are no doubts. A moment ago some one 
fired a shot from the window. — Was it intended for me or my 
pursuers ? 

Mar. Merciful Powers ! 

Coup. Be silent, for I read your sin in every look. Oh ! woman, 
your guilt stands out so clear before me that I scorn myself for 
loving you. {Tears paper to 2^>icces.) 



60 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Mar. This is the hardest blow of all. But you suffer — Yes, you 
must he suffering bitterly, and — I pity you ! Think of me as you 
will, but at least secure your own safety. Go now. You can still 
escape by the garden. The Sergeant on guard is your friend, and 
will permit you to pass. In the ruins of the Cathedral you will find 
horses in readiness. Speed to the coast, and cross to Holland. Then 
you will at least believe I have not sought your life. Go without 
another word — stay another moment, and it will be too late. 

Coup. I understand. You expect the valiant bridegroom here, and 
wish me out of the way. I am sorry my presence should be inconve- 
nient. But why distress yourself? Colonel Strang will soon relieve 
you of my importunities. What have you to fear from me — I, who 
am dead?' What right have I to be among the living? Do not trouble 
yourself, Madam. This ugly skeleton will soon return to its grave, 
and you shall be at peace, as the wife of Colonel Strang — if you can. 

Mar. Have you no pity ? You are killing me, Malcolm. (Cur- 
tains are parted, and Strang stands in the window. They do not 
perceive him.) 

Col. Strang. Why did not Strathroy wait the signal ? The fool has 
escaped, for the cord is dangling from the window. But is he be- 
yond pursuit ? I cannot discover him anywhere unless he be hidden 
here. If he is clear, then I am safe. What is this? Mrs. Malcolm 
and that scoundrel from the camp? This time he shall not escape 
me. (Drops curtain, and exit.) 

Coup. I came to kill you ; bat I will not lift a hand against you. 
No, no, Madam, your marriage shall go forward. I am here to 
make you the first bridal gift — my life. 

Mar. Oh, you are mad. 

Coup. If you have any heart, I will wring it with agony. I will 
fasten my memory on you as a curse that will drag you downward 
until you shall find no hope in Heaven or on earth. My bridal gift 
shall be the memory of one who sacrificed honor, ambition — every- 
thing for your sake, and who died to save you from a crime. Fare- 
well, Madam, I go now to surrender Malcolm Oliphant, your hus- 
band, to General Kerr. (He goes towards door, R.) 

Mar. (Stopping him.) There is still time for escape. You shall 
not pass this way. (Places herself in front of him.) 

Coup. Stand aside, you have made a mockery of my love, but you 
shall not balk my vengeance 

Mar. Oh, I can bear no more. Have, then, your vengeance to 
the full ; but first I shall have mine. 

Coup. Yours ? 

Mar. Ay, mine ! I will tear the hideous scales of jealousy from 
your eyes, and show you the truth — that will be my vengeance. 

Coup. I shall welcome all the pain it will inflict ? 

Mar. You talk to me of your love — of your sufferings. Have you 
forgotten mine? / braved a father's curse, because I loved you. — I 
came with you to a land which held only the saddest memories for 
me, because I loved you. — I have overcome a woman's fears, Heaven 
help me! almost a woman's modesty, — I have risked reputation — 
everything a woman holds precious — submitted to a thousand 
humiliations of pride and self-respect — all because I loved you. I 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. Gl 

have lived with a falsehood upon my name, and misery upon every 
hand ; and all for you — for you, who come to me now, mad with 
suspicions that degrade you and dishonor me. — For you, whose in- 
gratitude cuts more deeply to my heart than all the combined 
sorrows of my life ! For you, whose ravings shame my love. 

Coup. Can this he true? 

Mar. If it were false, would I endure your reproaches, while 
every nerve quivers with indignation at the shame your frenzied 
brain has heaped upon me? 

Coup. But this marriage with Strang — that letter ? 

Mar. All a trick to gain time for our escape. 

Coup. Margaret! Margaret! the scales have, indeed, dropped from 
my eyes, and I see it all. Oh ! stoop a little in your just wrath and 
pity me ! pity me ! if you cannot forgive me. 

Mar. (Embracing him, as Strang enters from window.) Oh, Mal- 
colm, I pity you, hecause I know how you have suffered ; and I for- 
give you, because I love you. 

Coup. Forgiven ! — My own Margaret ! — I must live for your sake. 
Oh, what a miserable, blind fool I have been — and you forgive me? 
I will atone for it all yet — we shall escape together, and 

Mar. (Perceiving Strang.) Hush ! It is too late — Colonel Strang 
is here. 

Col. Strang. (Advancing.) You are engaged, Madam, and I am 
sorry to interrupt you. 

Mar. You are too considerate, sir. Have you come to seek me? 

Col. Strang I have come to serve you. 

Mar. I am your debtor, sir ! — In what manner ? 

Col Strang. By my claiming the fulfilment of your promise. I 
shall not ask you for any explanation of what I have accidently ob- 
served. Doubtless this fellow has forced himself into your presence. 

Mar. You are wrong, sir. He is here by my request. 

Col. Strang. Madam, reserve your explanation. At this moment 
your peril is too imminent for me to listen to it. Your father has 
escaped. 

Mar. Escaped ! Thank Heaven ! 

Col. Strang. Your gratitude does honor to your filial affection, 
Madam, but it is treasonable. 

Mar. He is my father. Is it a crime to rejoice that he has escaped 
from the merciless foes who would have murdered him ? 

Col. Strang. It is a crime to speak as you are doing. Be careful, 
I implore you. You are suspected of being an accomplice of the 
rebels, and your life will be the forfeit. You must go with me at 
once. (Cotjpland makes a dash at him, but Margaret restrains 
him.) I have horses ready at the foot of the avenue, and to-morrow 
you will be in a place of safety with me. 

Coup. (Aside.) And I must listen to this? 

Mar. With you? I will not go. 

Col. Strang. Will not? You forget to-morrow is our appointed 
marriage day. Come, Madam, be wise in time, and go with me at 
once. 

Mar. I have deceived you, sir. And I already repent it. I never 
meant to fulfil the promise you wrung from me by threats which I 
was not strong enough to defy. 



62 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Col. Strang. If you remain, it will be to perish with the knave 
by your side. Choose, Madam, safety with me, or death with him. 

Mar. (Placing her hand in Coupland's) I have chosen — death 
with him. 

Col. Strang. I understand you now. Your promise was a trick. 
My devotion and fidelity you have played with, and scorned. You 
shall learn presently what my hate can do. (He moves towards 
window.*) 

Coup. Stay, sir ! You have dared to insult this lady, and, by 
Heaven ! you shall answer for it to me. 

Col. Strang. To you ? By what right, sir? 

Coup. You shall know my right. It is that of 

Mar. (Clutching his arm.) For my sake — not yet. 

Coup. My right is that of — a friend. Will that satisfy you ? It 
must. Now, Colonel Strang, will you do me the honor to descend to 
my level — you cannot lift me to yours — and try whether the sword 
cannot serve you. 

Col. Strang. A duel ? 

Coup. Why not a duel ? Are we not rivals, and there is no other 
way to arrange our difficulties. 

Col. Strang. You are mistaken. 

Coiip. Colonel Strang, as an officer of the King, I salute your 
authority ; as a man, I say you are a coward. 

Col. Strang. Ruffian! (Levelling his pistol.) 

Mar. (Throws herself before Coupland.) Me first! (Strang 
lowers his pistol.) 

Coup. When two men have to settle a dispute that involves life, 
a lady is out of place. Therefore retire, Madam, into that room. 
(Margaret goes into room ) r.) Now, sir, I wait your answer. 

Col. Strang. I will kill you. 

Coup. When — and where ? 

Col. Strang. Now — here. Are you ready ? 

Coup. I am ready. But I must first find a weapon. 

(Enter Ryan and Hodge through window.) 

Our friends here will perhaps supply us. The Colonel does me the 
honor to cross swords with me. 

Ryan. Is it fight ye mane — in the General's own quarters? Sure 
its kilt and hung altogether we'll be for it. 

Coup. The Colonel will see to your safety. It is his command, 
and you must obey your superior officer, Sergeant Ryan. Is it not 
so, Colonel ? 

Col. Strang. I am waiting. 

Coup. You hear. He is generous. 

Ryan. But what the divil is the row about ? 

Coup. About a lady whom the Colonel has insulted. 

Ryan. Oh, bad luck to it, an Irishman always takes up for the 
ladies. God bless them. If it's a lady, sure we can't say no. Here's 
a sword, my boy, and now — fire away. 

Coup. (Taking sword,) 
service. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. G3 

Col. Strang. (Cooly sheathing his sword.) I have changed my 
mind. 

Coup. What ! 

Col. Strang. 1 -will not fight with you, Sergeant Coupland, until 
you have shown me that the woman is worthy of the risk. 

Coup. I appeal to you, comrades. Is not that the coward's 
excuse — are not these the words of a scoundrel who slanders a help- 
less woman, and fears to answer for his villany ? 

Col. Strang. I appeal to these men, also. Look you, lads, am I 
not acting fairly by this fool ? "While this lady is under a promise 
of marriage to me, she coquettes with Captain Spence, and turns the 
head of this poor fellow, Coupland, by her deceit. 

Coup. It is a lie, comrades. It's a lie. 

Col. Strang. Prove to me that it is false, and my sword shall 
answer for the slander. 

(Enter Margaret, r.) 

Coup. I'll prove her honest even to your foul mind, Colonel 
Strang. (Taking her by the hand.) Listen, comrades, Captain 
Spence is the lady's friend, and I will bear witness to the honesty of 
her friendship — I, her husband! Malcolm Oliphant, of Elvanlee. 

Col. Strang. I knew I had heard that voice before. It is for this 
I have been waiting. (Moves towards window.) 

Mar. (Stopping him.) Villain! You drove him to this; but 
you have not triumphed yet. Away! Malcolm, away! and I will 
keep the fiend, back. 

Col. Strang. (Wrestling with Margaret.) Arrest him, there! 
(Ryan and Hodge make no effort to arrest him, and, as he rushes 
toward window, a file of Soldiers present themselves, with muskets 
leveled, and, immediately, Soldiers rush in from all the doors.) 

Sir Mai. Trapped ! betrayed ! Escape is impossible ! 

Mar. We are lost, Malcolm, but lost together. They cannot 
separate us now. 

(Enter Kerr and Spence, r. 2 e.) 

Col. Strang. (Looks on with malicious triumph.) You once felt my 
love, Margaret Oliphant ; you shall now feel my hate. (To Kerr.) 
General Kerr, behold in our arrest, the Pretender's spy, Sir Malcolm 
Oliphant, of Elvanlee. 

Gen. Kerr. Is it true, sir? 

Sir Mai. I am Oliphant, of Elvanlee, your Excellency, but no 
rebel. I have been, and am a faithful subject of King George of 
Hanover. 

Gen. Kerr. That is well, sir. I am glad that you have learned to 
recognize the authority which rules this country. 

Sir Mai. Pardon, General, the authority that rules this country, 
I have never doubted or questioned. 

Gen. Kerr. Since that is so, your falsehood, to the trust you bore 
becomes the blacker. 

Sir Mai. You speak harshly, General, cruelly, when your words 
strike at one who is powerless to defend himself. I am no traitor. 



64 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Gen. Kerr. Give me proof of your innocence, then, and I, who 
am about to hand you over to death, will become your friend and 
advocate. 

Sir Mai. To defend the truth of Oliphant, you have before you 
Sergeant Coupland. 

Gen. Kerr The fact that vou are Sergeant Coupland, is rather 
perilous to the cause of Oliphant, remembering the crime for which 
he was condemned. 

Sir Mai. That may be, your Excellency ; it is so, in appearance, 
but not in truth. I was judged and condemned by men who were 
too eager to win partisans, by making a terrible example of their 
political opponents, to weigh, with much nicety, the evidence in the 
case. 

Gen. Kerr. It is the custom of criminals to exclaim against the 
wisdom of their judges. 

Sir Mai. I do not exclaim against their wisdom. I only say they 
were deceived. I protested, and they would not hear me. There 
were some things in my favor — for instance, on the discovery of the 
loss of the dispatches, I wrote letters to Colonel Gardiner and Presi- 
dent Forbes, telling them all. A traitor would not have done that. 
Those letters did not reach their destination, and their existence was 
denied on the trial. Ask Colonel Strang what became of those let- 
ters. They were placed in his hands in Elvanlee, and it was upon 
the information contained in them that he arrested me. 

Gen. Kerr. (Gravely.) Colonel Strang could have had no reason 
for suppressing them. 

Sir Mai. He had a good reason. 

Gen Kerr. Name it. (Malcolm hesitates.) 

Mar. I was the reason, General. I refused to marry him, and he 
revenged himself for it on my brother, whom he betrayed to death, 
and next upon my husband (Excitedly.) 

Col. Strang. "Wait, General, until you have heard what further 
absurd charges these unfortunate people will bring, against every one 
who strove to do his duty, at a moment of critical importance, to the 
government of his country. Then, sir, you will be able to estimate, 
at their proper value, any charges they may bring against me. 

Gen. Kerr. You shall have an opportunity to answer for yourself, 
sir, when the time comes. (To Malcolm.) Proceed. 

Sir Mai. I escaped the doom pronounced upon me, and I resolved 
to devote my life to the service in which I had been degraded, hoping, 
in that way, to win back honor and freedom. Does such conduct 
mark the traitor ? 

Col. Strang. (To Kerr.) The service of which he boasts, con- 
veniently enabled him to correspond with the rebels — he could not 
have taken a better resolve— /or them. 

Gen. Kerr. Patience, sir. 

Sir Mai. More than once have you commended the services Ser- 
geant Coupland has rendered your army. The badge he wears is 
proof of that. Often his blood has marked, on the field of battle, his 
loyalty to the cause. Ask his comrades, ask your enemies, if he has 
ever failed in his duty ? Ask your own heart, sir, if the man who 
has had the honor to stand between you and death acted as a rebel, 
or could be the wretched creature we call a spy. 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 0;, 

Gen. Kerr. (After a short pause.) Have you anything further to 
urge in your defense? 

Sir Mai. Nothing, General. 

Gen. Kerr. I am sorry for that, for it is not only the offence of 
the past that condemns you. Last night you deserted an important 
post; to-night you have broken your parole, and quitted the camp 
without leave. As a soldier, I ask you how is such a misdemeanor — a 
crime in times like these — to be pardoned? 

Sir Mai. As a soldier, I answer that it is unpardonable. A.E a 
man, I say it is to be excused by the maddening position I have 
been placed in by the knavery of that man. (Pointing to STRANG.) 

Gen. Kerr. It is as a soldier I must deal with you. 



(Enter Dr. Fairlie, leading Agnes, veiled, l. 2 e.) 

Dr. Fair. Stay ! General, before you shoot the man, I have one 
here who has a word to say in his behalf. 

Gen. Kerr. Who is it ? 

Dr. Fair. Agnes Murray. (She raises her veil — all start.) 

Agnes. (To Malcolm.) It is all my fault that you are here, 
Malcolm. I know now the cruel wrong I have done you and 
Madge ; but I was deceived by my own folly, and' the lies of yonder 
wretch, Strang. 

Sir Mai. My poor Aggie, we have all been deceived, and we pay 
the penalty. There ! there ! Look up. You are not to blame. 
Tell her so, Madge; at least give her comfort, if we can find non< 
for ourselves. 

Mar. (Embracing her.) I cannot speak, Aggie. 

Agnes. Thank you, Madge, and you too, Malcolm. I have been 
most selfish and cruel, but 1 will try and make some amends. ( To 
Gen. Kerr, firmly.) Will it help Sir Malcolm Oliphant, if I can 
show you that he has been the victim of villainous slanders and per- 
secution ? 

Gen. Kerr. It may. 

Agnes. Then here is a letter which Dr. Fairlie has just obtained 
for me. Colonel Strang is the writer, and in it he denounces my 
brother as a spy, and as an agent of the Jacobite party. We always 
suspected that he had done this; but it is only now that we knovr 
that, while he pretended to be our best friend, he was, in truth, our 
bitterest enemy. 

Gen. Kerr. Such services are necessary, sometimes. • 

Agnes. Ay, but it was rendered not because he was faithful to 
your cause, but because his vicious nature sought to destroy us, in 
revenge for my sister's refusal of his hand. He followed us with 
false protestations of friendship, and deceived my poor father with 
his hypocritical laments for the man whom he himself had delivered 
to the executioner. He cherished his hate, and resolved to ruin my 
sister in spite of herself, and, when he found her the wife of Mal- 
colm, he endeavored to entrap him in the same snare which had 
killed my brother. We long suspected him, and now, thank- to 
good Dr." Fairlie, who, after months of search, discovered this letter 
6 



66 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

at the Secret Service Bureau, we are convinced. (To Spence.) 
Lawrence, can you forgive me ? 

Spence. [Embracing her.) Yes, Aggie, with all my heart. 

Gen. Kerr. All this is possibly true enough, but unfortunately it 
does not benefit Sir Malcolm. 

Agnes. It shows that he had an enemy — a base, skulking, treach- 
erous enemy, who influenced the verdict which was obtained against 
him. 

Gen. Kerr. Still, that does not prove him innocent. 

Agnes. Oh, sir, he is innocent! I know it ! I affirm it! I swear 
it ! He has been silent. He has endured the unmerited stigma of 
treason to shield his wife, and she has been silent for our father's 
sake. But silence can no longer save him, and, though it wring my 
heart with shame, I will declare the truth. It is Strathroy, my 
father*, ivho is guilty, and not Malcolm. He came to Elvanlee, dis- 
guised, and stole the dispatches. 

Gen. Kerr. The proof of this. — "Where is the proof? 

Mar. Great Heavens ! the packet. He said, " upon it depends 
Oliphant's safety, and mine, perhaps." (Handing it to Kerr.) I 
do not know what the contents of this may be, but it was given to 
me by my father to preserve for him. In the event of his death, I 
was to give it to Colonel Strang. (Strang quickly extends his hand 
,fo take the packet. Kerr pushes him back, and takes it himself.) 
I deliver it to you instead, hoping it may establish my husband's 
innocence. 

Gen. Kerr. [Cutting cord, and opening pad; et.) Letters? (Bead- 
ing one.) " To Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy. Important dis- 
patches will be delivered to Sir Malcolm Oliphant, to-morrow, August 
22d, detailing plan of campaign against the Pretender. Aware that 
your Lordshij) entertains no friendly feeling towards Oliphant, who 
has induced your daughter to forsake you, I would ])ersuade your 
Lordship to undertake the task of obtaining them yourself." Dated 
August 21st, 1745, and signed Henry Strang. (To Ryan.) Let 
no one leave the room. What is this ? A receipt for money, for 
services rendered Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy ? And this ? A 
letter accepting the Chevalier's promise of a title, in return for 
assistance to the Jacobite cause, which his position as Colonel would 
enable him to obtain. Colonel Strang, the contents of these letters 
seal your fate. 

Col. Strang. They are forgeries, to save a traitor from his doom. 
They cannot produce a single witness to prove their authenticity. 

Strath. (Appearing on gallery, very feeble.) You are wrong, sir. 
There is one witness here. 

Col. Strang. Strathroy! He did not escape! Fire upon him. 
(Soldiers level guns.) 

Gen. Kerr. (Quickly.) Hold! (They lower guns.) /command 
here. (Spence and Fairlie help Stkathroy down.) 

Col. Strang. Foiled at every turn— curse the woman ! She has 
caused all my misery. To win her I jeopardized my fortune — and I 
have lost. 

Strath. (Sinking in a chair which Ry AN places for him.) Will 
vou show me the letter that identifies the villain who betrayed my 



SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. G7 

son? (Kerr gives then) to him, and he reads them.) Do you think 
my word will weigh in balance against that of yonder knave? 

Gen. Kerr. Whatever you say shall receive consideration. 

Strath, i am glad that so much favor can be extended me. My 
hate for all who bend beneath the yoke of Hanover has kept me Bilent 
hitherto. But now my own hour has come, and for my children's 
sake I speak. [Kissing Madge.) Ay, Madge, the loyalty you have 
given to those you love has at last conquered me — who have been 
loyal only to my King. 

Mar. My poor father ! 

Strath. The letters you received from my daughter were written 
by that man Strang. Do you want proof? Here it is. In the hope 
of recovering those papers, he aided me to escape from the chamber 
where you held me a prisoner. Do you want more proof? Then 
search him, and you will find one thousand Louis d'ors, paid him 
last night — one of the many payments made him for information as 
to the movements of your army. Are you satisfied? 

Gen. Kerr. Yes. Captain Spence, search that man. (Spence and 
two Soldiers seize him. He resists, but they hold him, ivhile Spence 
draws a purse from his pocket.) Yes. I am satisfied. 

Strath. Then be satisfied of this, also. Sir Malcolm Oliphant 
is guiltless of all complicity with me even in thought. We have 
been at enmity because he refused to serve his lawful Master. He is 
to blame only for striving to shield from ignominy the name of one 
who has been too ungrateful and blind to his worth. (Sinks in chair. ) 

Gen. Kerr. The evidence is conclusive. To you, Sir Malcolm 
Oliphant, I, as the representative of his Grace of Cumberland, promise 
the return to you of the title and estates of Elvanlee. 

Mar. (Kneeling.) Thank God! the dark night has past, and light 
breaks through at last. 

Sir Mai. Colonel Strang, your sword. (Strang reluctantly gives 
it up, and Malcolm presents it to Kerr.) 

Strath. (Rising, and rushing upon Strang.) And I have traf- 
ficked with you, with you, the assassin of my boy ! Oh, give me a 
weapon that I may die avenging Frank I (Lifts his arm as if about 
to strike, but it falls, and he si?iks back in his chair. But I am too 
weak — too weak even for that. 

Col. Strang. (Harshly.) General Kerr, this man is mad. As an 
officer of the Duke of Cumberland's staff, I demand the instant exe- 
cution of the traitor Oliphant, and the removal of that poor wretch 
to the presence of his Grace, that I may have the opportunity to 
prove my honesty. 

Dr Fair. (Leaning over Strathroy.) You are too late, sir, as 
regards Strathroy. He is summoned to a higher tribunal than that 
of his Grace of Cumberland. 

Gen. Kerr. (To Ryan.) Conduct Colonel Strang to the room 
lately occupied by Strathroy. 

Col. Strang. I trust, General Kerr, you will live to see me justi- 
fied. I die a victim to my too great tenderness to a woman, who has 
given me to the scaffold that she might rescue one for whom she 
cares more. Well! life without her might have been so miserable, 
that I am almost content to die. Go on, sir, I will follow you. 

(Exeunt Strang, Byan, and two Soldiers, l. 2 e.) 



68 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 

Dr. Fair. Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy, has fought his last 
battle. He is dying. 

Agnes. Father ! ( Throws herself down by his side, Spence kneel- 
ing with her. Margaret and Malcolm kneel on the other side, 
while other characters group around.) 

Strath. Dying ! Ah ! now I understand the dream that was so 
strange — the clansmen who will curse me for my treachery ! — the 
hills that I shall never see again ! No coranach will lull me to rest — 
no loyal hand will cast a stone upon my cairn — Yet I have tried to 
serve" truly, my King. Oliphant? (Malcolm leans over him.) You 
are pardoned. You cannot be condemned. Give me my pardon now. 

Mai. Y'ou have it, from my soul. 

Strath. Come nearer — and you too, Madge, come nearer. You, 
Oliphant, may one day see the Master. Tell him, that if the father's 
love made me falter once — only once — in my duty to him, it was not 
till every hope was gone, and my senses were darkened by the 
shadow of death ! Tell the King that whether he was throneless, 
friendless or homeless, I was still his faithful servant. Tell him, 
that dying, my last prayer — my last words — uttered in the midst of 
his foes, were God Save the King. (Dies.) 

TABLEAU.— Curtain. 



LIBRARY OF 




